The Way of the Sword
by Shilyn
Summary: In the cicada's cry no sign can foretell how soon it must die. Inutaisho's story, beginning, middle, end, and beyond. Told by those who survived him: Shiroihana, Izayoi, and Sess. A bitter queen's triumph, a mortal's love, a son's torn loyalties. DONE!
1. Shiroihana: Daughter of the Kosetsu

A/N: Okay, working this story, especially in the beginning, is difficult! I took notes on Inuyasha: Swords of an Honorable Ruler some time ago, so I have those, but the movie is not that fresh in my mind. Those notes include: _humans know about Inutaisho (IT). He's coming. Takemaru Osetsuna? IT—"Not long for this world." Izayoi says "Run."Hiding true desire? Takemaru calls her on it. Takemaru loves her. IT "stole her away." So'Unga, eras of slaughter. IT died 200 years ago—Inuyasha is 150 years old?? Sess knew Takemaru. Sess wanted to defeat his own father._

Anything missing in there? Inaccurate? Cuz those are the notes I'm going with. I also have rough timelines for panthers: 50 years ago Sess fought them alone. Something like 500 years ago IT fought them alone. (Thus the guess here is that Sess is less than 500 years old, or just barely 500, since he wouldn't fight as a baby obviously). Open ended questions for me to play with: What's IT's real name? Where did he come from? Who was Sessmom? Where did she come from? Who was Izayoi exactly? And Takemaru? Where did they come from? How did IT meet Izayoi and how did they go about getting down and making our famous hanyou? What did Sessmom think about this?

On top of that there's also my own continuity notes. For new readers, disregard most of this as they will all be new to you! These are notes about my own original characters. This story is tied with _With Our Arms Wide Open,_ _Runaway, Return,_ etc. Somewhere I think I theorized about Sess's age, but I cannot find it in my own writing and it's not in my notes. Ugh. I placed Shimofuri (_With Our Arms Wide Open, Runaway, _and _Return)_ at about 200 years. His mother was about 600 when she died (Remember Taikokajin? From _With Our Arms Wide Open)_. For those of you familiar with my stories, you have seen Shiroihana/Sessmom before! (_Innocence,_ and _Return)_. How old is she? I have a guestimate. Hopefully everything fits.

As I have everything planned, all the variable questions are answered. I've always found Sess's brief scene with his father at the end of the third movie spectacular and inspirational and amazing. THIS story will show a plausible explanation for how he acts there, and why he does. It's less about Inutaisho and more about Sessmom, Izayoi, and Sesshomaru.

Ultimately I decided to do it in a mix. Each chapter will open with a section of first person, to give a feel for each voice, each view of Inutaisho. Then the main plot will be in third person because most of the time my third person is easier for me and comes out a little more impressive (I think). Right now I am planning on breaking the story into 3-4 parts. The first chapters are Shiroihana/Sessmom's. She reveals where she came from and where IT came from. His past, her past, their meeting. Sesshomaru's conception. The majority of the union of the Western Lands and Sess's earlier youth. Part 2 is Izayoi's story. How she met IT. How Takemaru fits in here. How Inuyasha was conceived. Her pregnancy and how she came to be where she was when we saw her in the beginning of the third movie. Part 3 is Sesshomaru's tale. How did IT's son react to his father's infidelity? How did Sessmom react? How did Inuyasha and Izayoi survive the wrath of these immortals? How did that opening scene between Sess and his dad come about? What's really going on there? Sess reveals all. Then I may include a short part 4 just to sum it up if necessary, told by each of the narrators after IT's death. Anyway, that's the plan.

Disclaimer: I do not own the original characters.

* * *

"The past is never dead. It's not even past." –William Faulkner

* * *

Part 1: Shiroihana

I broke with tradition. I severed the line of the Queens and defied my mother, and her mother before her. I did not set out to be revolutionary, but as powerful as I am, Fate has had its way within my life as much as any mortal's.

I was born in a chain of islands that mortal humans have named Japan. Nippon. I did not name these lands, and I did not think of them as a unified area, but in my long lifetime I have helped forge parts of them together. Perhaps the term "Western Lands" is familiar to you? If that is the case, you may also have heard of a creature sometimes called Inutaisho. You believe, as almost all do, that he is responsible for uniting the Western Lands, for fighting terrible monsters, for loving helpless humans.

You would be surprised to know that much of this is untrue. That leader, humans call him demon, youkai, inuyoukai, the Dog General, could never have accomplished what he did if it were not for my involvement. But, like many females, human and youkai alike, I am relegated to shadow and doubt. A woman is forbidden to wield power in the human world, but I am not human and I have wielded power equal or above what many men around me have, and even when a man has been above me, I am clever enough that he will do what I want without my even asking. If Inutaisho was the Dog General, or even a Dog King as he was once called on the mainland, than I was the Queen Bitch. And for as great and awe-inspiring as Inutaisho was, I am the one who has outlived him. I was the one who outsmarted him and took the ultimate revenge for his betrayal, his dishonor and shame.

It was I who sent the Dog General to his death.

You did not come here for my story; you are here to learn of Inutaisho. I am not arrogant enough to believe that you have any interest in me, but you must realize that to understand his story and where he came from, you must first hear my tale. I do not offer this story to ask for sympathy or to explain myself. I have no need or desire for your empathy. You are nothing but a weak, short-lived mortal and I will outlive you. What do I care of your opinion for me or my actions? I am not the Goddess-Queen of my maternal ancestors, exuding compassion and respect even for underlings such as yourself. Instead imagine me as a male-spirit embodied in a female form.

Then you may glimpse me at my truest, but I make no such promises. You are only mortal after all, and I am the great Lady Shiroihana, the mother of the Western Lands. No one knows me, not even my son. You will be no exception.

* * *

**Daughter of the Kosetsu**

At dawn on the day of her betrothal, Shiroihana did not sleep. She moved through the motions of resting, changing out of her daytime robes in favor of freer, looser nightclothes. She even laid down on her futon in her enormous bedroom in the west wing of Kagetsu palace, but Shiroihana did not sleep.

Her head was full of her mother's drilling, of the practice betrothal ceremony that had taken up much of her day, interrupting the normal flow of lessons that had shaped her life up until the present. Shiroihana had been carefully schooled. She had taken notes for her mother and father to practice calligraphy, studied the genealogies of the inuyoukai clans, and read classic literature from the mainland. More important than these lessons were those that she learned to sculpt her body and her will. They were different from the lessons on war that her brother underwent, though Shiroihana did learn basic strategy in war. It was not her strongpoint. She preferred ceremony, manipulation and treaties. Or alliances by marriage.

At two hundred years old, Shiroihana was fully mature physically and had no regular need for sleep, though the activity was pleasant and she often slept through the nights simply to pass time. This night, however, though she longed to pass the time, sleep was out of reach.

Anxiousness, an emotion that Shiroihana was unaccustomed to, hung over her like morning mist in shadowed hallows. Her mother had reported little about the clan that Shiroihana was betrothed to, only to say that the alliance was favorable because it would bind the lands—which lay side by side—into one unit. At least for a time. The Kosetsu was such a unique land, controlled by ancient tradition, ruled over by inuyoukai Queens, that likely the union would be shaky at best.

Once, long ago, when the islands were still connected to the mainland, all lands had been ruled by women. But now only the Kosetsu lands and Shiroihana's immediate royal family continued the ancient and sacred tradition of female ruling and inheritance. The lands of her intended husband were male-inherited, like all the rest of the world. The Tengai lands were held by a clan called the Okou, fair-haired and golden-eyed, related distantly to Shiroihana's own family.

All this she knew by examining the family genealogies, yet she longed to know more about them and their lands. The dawn could not arrive soon enough.

When the horizon began to change from the darkness and gloom of deep night to the gentle blue of approaching dawn, Shiroihana could wait no longer. She donned a second robe, clean, pristine, and white with a simple sash in black silk and left her room. She woke the maids two hours before they would have risen and gone to fetch her. The maids of their household were strictly other youkai. Monkey and gecko demons were chosen for their passive natures and clever hands. With a few of these servants in tow, Shiroihana bathed and dressed and styled her hair with only slight help from them. She wore her hair long and unrestrained in the style of a maiden, an unmarried girl.

But she was not a girl. She was nothing so deceptively simple, even in her distant, naïve youth.

Footsteps ricocheted on the walls in the hallway outside Shiroihana's large, grandiose bedroom in the west wing of the Kagetsu palace. Shiroihana recognized her father's tread and his aura. She shooed the maids away, setting them to work with changing the linens and washing clothes and dusting about the room. She walked to meet her father in the doorway before he could arrive.

Lord Shinkumaru was tall and lithely built. His eyes were a pale blue-green and his hair the same bright white as his daughter's. Over his cheeks two elegant, straight purple streaks marked his high birth status. At first he regarded Shiroihana with a cold, somber stare, but his expression softened when he spotted the maids busily working near her bed, stripping the sheets.

"My daughter is already practicing at being Queen!" he said, chuckling lightly.

Shiroihana bowed to him slightly. It was not the full bow that most daughters would have offered to their fathers, but Shiroihana, as princess of the Kosetsu, was not bound in the same way to her father as most daughters were. Their relationship was not one of solemnity or deep, quiet respect.

"I was impatient," she admitted.

Shinkumaru's face darkened. His lips curled in a scowl. "Don't be so eager to marry and grow up, Daughter."

"It's not that," Shiroihana said, shaking her head. "I'm _not_ eager. Mother has not told me enough about the Okou. I have the feeling that she doesn't want me to know anything about them—as if there is nothing to be excited about except the alliance, the land that we would gain."

Shinkumaru nodded. His earlier pleasure at seeing her had faded. "It's not for me to second guess the judgments of the Queen." Even though Shinkumaru was husband and mate to Queen Samidare, and father to her two children, he did not have authority in the Kosetsu. Samidare decided what was good for all of them.

"Have the Okou arrived yet?" Shiroihana asked.

Shinkumaru shook his head in the negative. "No, not yet—but it is very early." Something in his usually bright eyes, the cool of blue and green like a springtime meadow, disturbed Shiroihana further, setting her on edge.

"Where is Mother?"

"I left Queen Samidare on the Northern terrace," Shinkumaru told her.

"Thank you." They bowed to one another and then Shinkumaru continued on his way down the corridor, heading for Shiroihana's younger brother's room no doubt. Sesshomaru, her little brother, was nearly fifty years younger than she was and still required nightly sleep on a regular basis. He had been slow to mature, according to Samidare. It was troubling—but also encouraging.

Slow maturation in a male inuyoukai always promised incredible youkai power. This would please any parents of an inuyoukai son outside of the Kosetsu. Inside the Kosetsu it was dangerous. It was asking for rebellion.

Strong sons craved power and in the Kosetsu they could not have it.

Shiroihana watched her father's hair, flowing like silken fabric, bright and smooth. Sesshomaru was nearly as tall as their father now, but more heavily built, a powerhouse. He had a cool and calm temperament, in spite of his youth and immature status. He was mature enough to marry and have an increasing desire for sex, but the need for sleep indicated that his youkai strength had not yet reached full capacity. He would be a powerful warrior, a force to be reckoned with, but could Samidare and Shiroihana contain him?

Shiroihana left her room with the door open and walked down the hall. Unlike Shinkumaru and Sesshomaru, Shiroihana had inherited her mother's shorter stature, as well as her white hair, golden eyes, the single maroon coloration on her cheeks, and the crescent moon shape on her forehead, the mark of the Kosetsu. The mark of its rightful heir—and a sign to other youkai and dog demons that she carried a rare and dangerous trait.

Shiroihana was poisonous.

Kagetsu was massive and sprawling. It had been erected atop a mountain in the center of the Kosetsu lands by Shiroihana's ancestors many long centuries ago. In many places the floor was made of stone, carved by the claws of inuyoukai and human carpenters. Some of the newer work on the palace had been by human carpenters, as in the wooden railings that lined the open air terraces that connected the West and East wings of the palace.

Shiroihana found the door to the Northern terrace open. It admitted a hot, steamy air from the summer outside. The sun had risen enough to color the mists blue and orange, but overall this spot on the mountain had always remained misty as a result of the immortal, magical beings that lived atop it. The mists obscured curious human eyes and frightened away uncertain, lost travelers or explorers. Any uninvited guests who found their way to Kagetsu palace were unlikely to reach the great stairway leading up the side of the mountain. Samidare and the great Queens before her had ties to the underworld, to the hidden spirits that prowled the wilderness without purpose or cause. The hill was haunted and the spirits would fall on the unwelcome, frightening them away or slaughtering them.

Shiroihana could not see very far out onto the terrace. She stepped out, sniffing quietly, trying to locate her mother. She walked beside the railing and felt it curiously as she had for years. As a tiny pup she had run with Sesshomaru, clambering on the railings until Shinkumaru or Samidare stopped them. Their young claws had scarred the delicate carvings in the wood, the fanciful characters: dragons, massive dogs with bushy tails, disembodied fox heads with long whiskers, and bipedal warriors in full armor with fierce faces.

"Shiroihana?" a deep, female voice called from the thick, gray mists.

"Mother?" Shiroihana hurried forward until she could see and smell her mother. Samidare was already wearing her ceremonial robes. Her hair was fashioned into lobes and ornaments like chimes made out of silver and gold dangled on either side of her round, serene face. Her skin had been painted, decorated until she had the appearance of a goddess. The humans of the Kosetsu had always whispered that the beings in Kagetsu palace, their rulers and protectors, were Gods. Unreachable, immortal, and beyond comprehension.

"Shiroihana," Samidare said, smiling. Her lower lip had been painted a brilliant crimson like fresh blood. The upper lip was white, pale. Her eyebrows were outlined in glittering gold while her eyes were surrounded by vermillion. "You're awake very early this morning. You are excited?"

Shiroihana hesitated. She took in her mother's huge ceremonial robes. They trailed in a long swathe behind her. Endless fabric in gold, white, and red. She was like the humans' sun goddess, the mighty Amaterasu. Samidare's commitment to the upcoming betrothal was clear. Shiroihana chose to reply to her mother honestly, but with reserve. "I am nervous, Mother."

"There is no reason for it," Samidare murmured. With the gold coloration all around her, the Queen's eyes shone out as if lit from within. "This is a fine match. The Okou have a fine male heir. Your union will greatly expand our lands."

"But my husband will not want his sons to be ruled by his daughters."

Samidare had been resting her pale, long-fingered hands on the wooden railing, absently feeling the carvings as she listened to her daughter speaking. Now she shifted. Her robes rustled and hissed as they moved over the stone floor. Her hair ornaments tinkled musically.

Shiroihana ducked her head, bowing respectfully before the full regalia of her mother and her Queen. Her jaw was clenched; her chest tight, but she made no sign of it. Samidare had trained her to be stoic, to be queenly. This moment was an odd one, a time when Shiroihana questioned her mother. It was a dangerous thing to do. Queens did not tolerate doubt from their offspring. The genealogies had revealed a hidden history behind the Kosetsu that deeply disturbed Shiroihana, one that she was not sure she could keep up herself.

Queens often killed unfaithful, uncooperative children. Power hungry sons or husbands, daughters who desired love or knowledge over their place as Queen. Samidare had had two brothers before she had become Queen. Shiroihana's grandmother had had one killed when he challenged Samidare's right to rule as tradition dictated. The other brother had been sent away, married off carelessly and disowned. Two uncles, gone, banished or killed. And more and more, Shiroihana thought of her brother Sesshomaru with apprehension and suspicion. Her heart was tormented by her memories of their shared puphood. The laughter, the wrestling, the learning. Could she agree with Samidare if the Queen ordered Sesshomaru's death?

"I was mistaken," Samidare said, sighing.

Shiroihana lifted her head, confused though she did not reveal the expression on her face. "Mother?"

Samidare took a step forward and reached out, caressing her daughter's cheek with one hand. "I saw you here so early, and I thought I was seeing a girl eager to learn the secrets between male and female. Instead I was seeing a woman, a young queen. You need not trouble yourself with these thoughts just yet. You will not be married this year."

"But why should I put it off?" Shiroihana asked. "The world does not approve of us. I will have to contend with it my entire life. That was what my Queen taught me from birth."

Samidare withdrew her hand. Her golden eyes had hardened, narrowing. It was a change from Mother to Queen. "You're right, Shiroihana. I have raised a fine young queen with a mind as sharp as any man's. It's true, no man from beyond the Kosetsu agrees with our way of life, but you must _never_ allow yourself to doubt our tradition. As Queen your hardest challenge will not be ruling, but maintaining the balance. Our family is the only one that remembers the female spirit and counteracts the destruction of the male spirit. Though all the other lands disregard their daughters, the Kosetsu never will. You must never relinquish this or we will all surely face disaster. The male spirit is ruled by chaos and violence. You must never relinquish your power to a man. Not to your husband, not to your sons."

This was a meaningless speech that Shiroihana had heard her entire life, but now it disturbed her, more than her upcoming betrothal and marriage, more than the prospect of becoming Queen and facing the challenge that Samidare spoke of. She noted how Samidare had not said _Not to your brother._ Was it on Samidare's mind too?

Shiroihana buried the concern, reassuring herself before her mother could see it. _Sesshomaru has never been displeased with his position. He is content. He will stay content. _

Instead she focused on the betrothal, on her future husband. "How am I to force my husband to give up his male heirs? Or will our two lands pass independently?"

Samidare tipped her head, perplexed at her daughter's question. "What do you mean, independently?"

"I mean the Tengai lands will pass to my sons, and the Kosetsu to my true heir. My daughter."

Samidare frowned, a small and brief expression but meaningful. Her white teeth gleamed when she smiled a moment later. "Shiroihana—the goal of this alliance is to expand our domains and unite them under our traditions. Under our family. We are more powerful than the Okou clan. They are few and bookish. You are marrying their only proper heir and you will easily overpower him. He will give you children and you may do as you see fit. Give small sections of the Tengai to your sons…" She narrowed her eyes. "Or to Sesshomaru."

Shiroihana nodded, suddenly understanding. She bowed, overwhelmed and abruptly feeling as if she had lost fifty pounds from some invisible weight about her shoulders. "Thank you, my Queen." _Sesshomaru will remain content. Mother is very wise. _

"There is only one counsel I will offer, Daughter," Samidare said, surprising Shiroihana as she rose out of her bow. "Do not have more children than is necessary."

Shiroihana nodded but said, "What if I have no daughters? How can I maintain the balance then?" Shiroihana frowned. "Is there even a balance, Mother, when all the other clans pass their lands to their sons?"

Samidare struck like a snake, pinching Shiroihana's ear. Shiroihana flinched but made no sound. "One pebble set against a hundred others may not make much difference in your eyes, Shiroihana. But it is something, and it is visible. We hold to our tradition because without it we are not the Kosetsu, we are just one of the others. Do you understand?"

Tightly with pain, Shiroihana answered, "Yes, my Queen."

Samidare released her and gazed at her with a cold, distant glare. "You are not dressed properly. The Okou will be here soon. You must appear the proper image of the Princess that you are."

Shiroihana's hands had closed into fists. She hid them behind her back as she bowed. Her ear burned. "Yes, my Queen." Inwardly, she thought _You did not answer my question. _

_

* * *

  
_

The day swelled, growing oppressively hot. Shiroihana returned to the mirror with the monkey demons to reapply her makeup twice before the Okou finally arrived for the ceremony. Sesshomaru was the one who arrived to fetch her. He was somber and dressed in his own luxurious robes. He carried a decorative short sword and wore heavy armor that clanked and clicked metallically.

"Lady Shiroihana is most beautiful," he said in greeting.

Shiroihana had her back to the door. She had been waiting, knelt in front of the mirror. A monkey demon was nodding off behind her. Shiroihana smiled at her brother, watching him in the mirror. "Little Brother is most charming," she purred.

"You will be late," Sesshomaru said. He was not as stoic as Shiroihana, it was not in his training to have the bearing of a true lord. "Queen Samidare will be upset."

Shiroihana gazed one last time at herself in the mirror. Her hair had been put up partly, but it also flowed long down her back and over her shoulders in a white waterfall. Long hair was the style worn by an unmarried maiden, but having it up marked nobility. Like Samidare, Shiroihana had adorned her face with white paste, but unlike her Shiroihana's was not red but pink or blue. Red was the color of blood, of heat, of sex and experience. Shiroihana was none of those things as an unmarried princess.

She rose to her feet and the monkey shuffled out of the way with a hoot. Her hair decorations tinkled like flowing water. As she passed out into the hall, Sesshomaru bowed deeply to her.

"Stop," Shiroihana ordered. "I'm not Queen."

Sesshomaru was silent. They did not walk side by side, but with Shiroihana leading the way. They passed through an open terrace on their way to the East wing of the palace. The air was moist and thick. Shiroihana cringed inwardly, aware that her makeup would already be suffering.

They reached the snowflake room. It was blindingly white, decorated with snowflakes and dark silhouettes of trees against a winter blizzard. Sesshomaru slid the door open to the audience room and stepped inside. He moved to sit beside Shinkumaru. In most ceremonies or audiences with important guests, a family would organize itself around its fathers, husbands, and sons. In the Kagetsu palace the Queen always took the place of honor, sitting upfront atop the small raised platform, overlooking her guests like an empress. Like the goddess she was.

A monkey youkai who worked as an announcer and scribe for Samidare and Shinkumaru, called out Sesshomaru's name and title as he sat down. Shiroihana's keen ears heard the whisper of fabric as the representatives of the Okou clan bowed to her brother. Shiroihana could not see any of them, but already she could smell them. Thin, flowery scents with underlying sour sweat beneath. She immediately disliked it, but pushed the reaction from her mind. The alliance made perfect sense for the Kosetsu, and it would give Sesshomaru the lands he deserved.

The announcer called, "Lady Shiroihana, Princess of the Kosetsu."

Shiroihana stepped forward through the open door and into the brightness of the snowflake room. She knelt just behind her mother and to one side. Her position in the room was one of greater honor than either Shinkumaru or Sesshomaru. Both her father and her brother sat further back than she did, further away from their guests and from Samidare.

Shiroihana kept her eyes averted from their guests while they bowed. Their clothing rustled, their hair murmured, and in one of the elders, sitting at the far back, a back cracked. Though they had barely seen her, Shiroihana felt a strange intensity in the room. It was distressing and intoxicating at once. She felt they saw her with curiosity and awe, as if she were something different and unknowable to them.

Their guests at last lifted their heads. Shiroihana stared into her lap, admiring the detail of the embroidery in her sleeves. Her face was hot, probably blushing. She thought of the makeup paling her face artificially and drew a silent but very deep breath to calm her nerves. She had never been outside the Kosetsu before, and had never seen but a handful of other inuyoukai. She had sat in with her mother before, acting as a scribe when she was younger, but in those audiences the guests paid her no mind. Now she was the focus of the entire room.

"Daughter," Samidare said, cuing her.

Shiroihana looked up and blinked once, recalling her role in the ceremony with a jolt. "Welcome," she addressed the Okou. "Welcome honored guests the Kagetsu palace and to the Kosetsu."

As she spoke, Shiroihana took them in quickly. There were four of them, all male and all with white hair. The two in the back were elders, likely grandfathers or great uncles. The two that sat nearer to the platform were younger. One was dark and stiff. His face had been scarred. There were no marks on his cheeks. At first Shiroihana thought he was the youth's—her betrothed's—father, but when she noted the absence of markings, she realized he was a bodyguard. The youth sitting closest to the platform was small, unimpressive, and diminutive. Shiroihana wanted to laugh at him and at the betrothal the longer she stared at him, as if this was all a clever ruse, a practical joke by Samidare. Was he old enough to be contemplating marriage?

One of the elder inuyoukai spoke up. "We have come bearing gifts for the beautiful Lady Shiroihana and her honorable mother Lady Samidare." He motioned and the inuyoukai elder beside him shifted and came forward with a lacquered box. He placed it next to the youth, Shiroihana's intended future husband.

The young inuyoukai—still more of a boy than a man at an age of a hundred years by Shiroihana's estimate—grabbed the beautiful lacquered chest, heaving it up with an inelegant grunt of effort. Shiroihana shifted minutely in her position and tried to look away.

Her betrothed took two steps forward and extended the box in unsteady hands, placing it on the platform just in front of Samidare. He let out a long breath and then said, "Please accept these gifts on behalf of the Okou clan and our lands, the great Tengai, Lady Shiroihana, Queen Samidare. And on behalf of myself, Lord Machitekishi."

His name meant something like genuine intellectual extravagance. And, looking at his scrawny limbs, and the lack of a sword at his waist, Shiroihana felt his name was accurate.

As he lifted his head, Shiroihana had a full view of his face. His features were soft and handsome, but somehow they did not fit him. It was as if he had been soldered together from different molds, like a maple tree with pine needles as leaves, or a cherry tree that bore plums as fruit. His eyes were the same gold as Shiroihana and Samidare's. The clans were related distantly, but how exactly Shiroihana had forgotten. Golden eyes were oddly rare in the bloodlines, as was white or blond hair.

The marks on this youth's face were deep blue and oddly jagged, like lightening. Yet it was the only thing on him that whispered of physical power. Shiroihana admired the lacquered box for a moment to appear friendly, but she did not smile. No clear-headed, strong inuyoukai woman knowingly marries and mates with a weak-bodied male. It only produced weak pups.

The ceremony ended swiftly, much to Shiroihana's relief. The wedding was arranged for spring the following year. In the intervening time Shiroihana was charged with the task of writing to Machitekishi to get to know him a little more. In the fall, before winter snows made traveling difficult and unpleasant, Machitekishi and his grandfather would come as guests of the Kosetsu. Shiroihana and Machitekishi would further spend time together during meals and for some games and other entertainment.

Dutifully, Shiroihana took on this task, but she thought always with revulsion about her future marriage. She considered asking her mother to reconsider—surely Samidare was debasing her daughter and her bloodline by arranging the marriage with such a weak, scrawny specimen of that violent, chaotic male spirit—but then Shiroihana thought of her younger brother and restrained her disgust. The marriage was solid in every reasonable way aside from the physical factor.

Perfection was impossible, but the arrangement was close. Shiroihana tried to force herself to accept the betrothal by getting to know Machitekishi. She poured herself into the letters, but found them difficult to write. She constantly destroyed them and started afresh, dissatisfied with what she had said or the tone of her letter. She had no idea how to relate to Machitekishi, or to any inuyoukai outside of her own family. When she asked her mother's advice, Samidare smiled indulgently and told her to report something interesting and knowledgeable.

"Discuss a poem you have read, or an herb you have researched, or perhaps mythology. Tell him the legend of the Kosetsu."

Shiroihana tried to do exactly as her mother advised, but hated the result. Finally she pretended that she was writing the letter to her father or her brother. Words flowed out of her, different from all the other letters. Gentle, genuine, and affectionate. She wrote about the passage of time, the formation of the clouds and mists around Kagetsu, and then of her uncertainty with the future, of her difficulty in seeing herself as Queen, of her fear of failure.

She nearly burned the letter when she had finished, deciding it was too open, too emotional. It was not befitting a cold, somber Queen of the Kosetsu. But was that what Machitekishi expected of her? Or was it right for her to present herself as open, vulnerable, and unconditionally trusting? She knew enough of the outside world to understand that most women, human or not, were expected by society to be demure, soft-spoken, unassuming, and easily dominated.

Before she could doubt herself further, Shiroihana sent the letter. The reply was a long time in coming and she agonized over it, dreaming about Machitekishi opening the letter and laughing, reading her fine script back to the elder inuyoukai men of his clan as they mocked her. _Some Queen! Machitekishi, you will be the best thing that has happened to her!_

When the letter returned it was written in a delicate, spidery hand, and it ignored all of what she had said. Machitekishi wrote a poem, several haikus in fact. Shiroihana interpreted emotion from them, but also suspected he was condescending to her, refusing to open to her in the same way she had to him. Instead he presented pretty words in a controlled structure, praising her beauty and her gentle heart. _Gentle heart?_

Samidare questioned her daughter about the letter and for the first time in her life, Shiroihana lied.

"I am enjoying Lord Machitekishi's correspondence. He is very intelligent and witty. He makes me laugh. He writes very smooth and beautiful poems."

Samidare smiled. "Good. That sounds like excellent news. I was worried that he would mention the panthers from the south and frighten you."

Shiroihana could not stop the deep frown that flashed over her face. "Panthers?"

Mother and daughter were sitting in the library at the Kagetsu, examining old documents and maps, discussing their lands. It was a history lesson, one of hundreds that Shiroihana had endured from about age five onward. They drank rice wine, chilled by ice that had been stored in a padded, underground room dug beneath the palace into the side of the mountain. It was kept cold by the combination of the specific room, under the ground, and by magic spells cast there by a Shinto priest long ago.

Samidare sighed and tapped her cup with her clawed fingers. "The panther demons have come out from hiding. They have threatened the Kosetsu and the Tengai lands before, but that was long ago."

"We didn't fight in that war," Shiroihana said, recalling another history lesson some years ago.

"Two hundred years ago, just before you were born," Samidare said, "I had just become Queen. The panthers invaded to the far south. Their numbers swelled. They were bent on conquering all of the islands. The Okou are dying off because most of their men—and many of their women—were killed two centuries ago. That is why they have only Machitekishi to offer in marriage now. when I was young there were many of them, and some of them were very handsome. If not for the war and so many lost I would have married one of them certainly. But my destiny lied in the Middle Lands and with your father."

Most of this was familiar, but hearing Samidare's more personal account intrigued Shiroihana. She had thought the entirety of the Okou clan to be diminutive weaklings, too young or too old. Now she saw the arrogance of her assumption. Inuyoukai were slow to breed. They had not yet replenished their numbers from so great a loss. Of course they would push the immature, too young Machitekishi to marry as soon as physically possible. And the chance at such a fine match for him…

Shiroihana wrote her next letter to Machitekishi in the same open tone, but now she asked about the panthers, about his clan, burying her disgust in favor of curiosity. The weather was cooling, fall was coming swiftly. Soon she would see Machitekishi and get a second chance to know him. Perhaps, with the possibility of war, Machitekishi would become increasingly warrior-like. Perhaps Shiroihana had judged him too soon.

She sent the letter, eager for a reply.

It never came.

* * *

The weather was still warm and it was a month or so before Samidare and Shinkumaru expected messengers to arrive with details of Machitekishi's intended visit. Messengers arrived early, but not with word about the visit. Instead their news was that the Okou clan had been overrun and obliterated. There simply weren't enough of them to stand against even a reduced number of panthers.

Machitekishi was dead. All of the Okou clan was dead.

Shiroihana was in the room when the messengers, foxes that acted as couriers for information passing between the Kosetsu and its neighbors, revealed the news to her parents. At first she felt relief, an emotion that sprung out of her unexpectedly, as she realized that she would not have to marry Machitekishi after all. Then she felt shame for rejoicing at the death of someone who had never really wronged her, and baffled that though she had made such an effort to go through with the marriage, she had always been opposed and unhappy with it—even when she had deluded herself into thinking otherwise. For the first time she realized that if there was one certain thing about herself, it was that she knew what she wanted.

Fate had delivered the answer to her this time, but in its wake were two problems, one new, the other old. The old one was the question of what to do with her younger brother Sesshomaru. With Machitekishi dead and the Tengai lands overrun with panthers, there was no land for her to give to her brother to keep him happy. That led to the new problem: War.

Over the coming weeks refugees spilled into the Kosetsu from the Tengai. They swarmed up the coastline like ants climbing a tree trunk. And as they moved northward, they spread outward, exploring inward, pillaging and conquering. The Kosetsu was their next target.

Queen Samidare took action. Now the men of the Kosetsu found themselves important and highly valued as armies amassed and trained, readying for war in the next spring. The panthers, however, were not the kind to delay as the inuyoukai expected them to. They attacked before the snow had fallen, engaging unready troops and burning villages while stealing food, killing livestock and abducting humans as slaves. The inuyoukai they killed ruthlessly, sparing none.

By the time the snows fell heavy enough to end the fighting for the winter, the Kosetsu was ailing and gravely threatened.

Shiroihana saw little of this, only heard it from fox and inuyoukai messengers, and from her brother and father's letters. Sesshomaru, when he did write, told Shiroihana of the deep thrill that the scent of blood brought, of the satisfaction that filled him when he cleaved a panther demon in two. His letters were thrilling to Shiroihana too. Not only did they reassure her that he was alive, but they allowed her a snatch of freedom, a view of the outside world, and a slice of hope. The news the messengers brought always seemed grim, but with warriors like Sesshomaru on the battlefield and patrolling the boundaries of the Kosetsu, surely they could not lose as the Okou had.

Samidare and Shiroihana were prisoners within their own palace. Samidare became tense and short tempered. She talked to Shiroihana very little. Mother and daughter became somewhat distanced from each other.

When the weather began to warm again, and fighting resumed in earnest almost immediately, with the panthers seeming to never tire and to have unending numbers, Samidare made a difficult decision.

Early one morning a monkey demon summoned Shiroihana to the baths. When she arrived she found her mother inside the tiled room clothed in only a thin robe that did not even have a sash to tie it closed. Samidare was unusually casual. Her hair was long and uncombed, her face completely unpainted. She wore no jewelry.

Shiroihana bowed to her mother in the doorway. "My Queen," she greeted her, formally, in spite of the fact that her mother's current place and dress suggested something intimate and personal. The last time Shiroihana had seen her mother so unguarded was when she had given birth to Sesshomaru. Her earliest memories of Samidare were a mixture of love and formality. Samidare had always been teacher as much as mother.

Now she smiled and gestured at the steaming water. "Let us dispense with all formality."

"Mother?" Shiroihana asked, not bothering to hide her skepticism.

"Bathe with me; we have important things to discuss." Samidare slipped out of her robe and stepped into the pool. Her skin pinked with the heat of the water. To one side a variety of vials and cups had been set out, containing soaps, oils, and shampoos.

The monkey disrobed Shiroihana and she joined her mother cautiously. Samidare was more thickly built than Shiroihana. Partly that was due to the pups she had borne, but also it was genetic. Shiroihana had inherited the more lithe shape of Shinkumaru while Samidare had passed on a thicker build to Sesshomaru.

Samidare poured some of the shampoo from a cup onto her hands. As she rubbed it into her scalp, lathering it, she sighed heavily. "I have come to a difficult decision about this war, Shiroihana."

Shiroihana waited, saying nothing. Her hair had floated up around her, refusing to become easily waterlogged.

"We are going to lose," Samidare said.

"What?" Shiroihana blurted, stopping mid-motion as she stroked her hair, pushing it beneath the water.

"The panthers are too ferocious. Eventually we will be overcome. It may take a decade, but it will happen. Unless we seek more allies." She paused, splashing her hair and her face. Bubbles fell into the water and floated, bouncing on the little waves that the two inuyoukai women made between them. "I have decided I am going to go into the Nanka, the lands north and east of us, in the center of this island. The Middle Lands. There is a new lord there, Koshoshiro. A distant cousin of ours, I'm sure."

All the dog demon clans were distantly related to each other, so Samidare's words were only half-truths. It had been tradition at one place or another within the dog demon clans to greet any stranger as a "cousin." It was almost always a sure bet that inuyoukai with the same hair color were related by some degree. _Koshoshiro_ sounded like a name given to a white or blonde inuyoukai.

"He has recently lost his wife, to childbirth no less."

Shiroihana sensed at once where this was going. "You wish to ally our lands with the Nanka by way of marriage to this Lord Koshoshiro? Will he be interested? What of the child his wife gave him—does it live?"

Samidare's lips moved, curling minorly. "It lives, but it is not the son that Koshoshiro will want to inherit the Nanka. I have sent envoys to contact him and bring all the rumors they hear of him from the Nanka, but the snow is still deep in the passes further north. It may be some time before we hear back from them." She paused and glanced away from her daughter, suddenly appearing older to Shiroihana. "I cannot wait that long."

"Mother?" Shiroihana had ignored the shampoos, oils, perfumes, and soaps. She had no interest in the bath, only in her mother's strange demeanor.

"I will leave the palace to join the battle with your father and Sesshomaru," Samidare revealed. "I will leave you to act in my place as Queen. I will write to you frequently to help with the arrangement, but _you_ will be the one to forge this alliance between Koshoshiro in the Nanka and our Kosetsu."

Shiroihana met her mother's stare solemnly. "I will go to meet with him as soon as the messengers return; as soon as there is word that he may consider the alliance. I will not fail you, Mother."

Samidare laughed and shook her head. She splashed more water onto her face and her hair. "You have already tried to fail me with such a strategy, Shiroihana!"

Baffled and disturbed, Shiroihana lifted her chin, offended by her mother's criticism and unable to avoid showing it.

Samidare leaned backward, resting her shoulders against the green and gold tiles of the bath. "You do not need to be stiff, Daughter. You are not Queen yet, in spite of my charge. You should learn to use others' doubt against them. Then you will be a force to be reckoned with. A Queen is powerful because she is enigmatic, unknowable. Men do not know women's minds; they only imagine arrogantly that they do. In this case you will be vulnerable. You cannot go to Koshoshiro so eagerly. You cannot appear desperate. He will crush you if you show such vulnerability. Queens are not _vulnerable._"

Shiroihana nodded and ducked her head respectfully. "You are wise, Mother." She hesitated and then drew an unsteady breath. The scents of the bath were rich and worked against her self-control. She risked exposing her uncertainty to her mother—and to her Queen. "I am concerned that I will be foolish in your absence, Mother. I fear I may not be ready for such a role."

"When I was your age I was not ready either. Like Sesshomaru, you have been slow to mature. Your inner powers have not reached their full potential just yet. There are many things you cannot learn without the experience and passage of time, my daughter." She smiled warmly, her golden eyes glowing with pride. "You will do well, and you need not worry. I believe that when the time comes, you will find it flows within your blood. You have the confidence and power to be a marvelous Queen. A better Queen even than me, or my mother. With any luck you will have another hundred years to prepare yourself for being Queen." Her smile faded, vanishing. "However, if something should happen, I wanted to tell you that I have spent much of this winter leaving you written instructions, guidance. Any lessons that I had put off or avoided teaching you."

"Nothing will happen to my Queen," Shiroihana replied, firmly and formally. "Panthers will quail before her sword."

Samidare moved through the water toward her daughter, slowly and gently. The water filled the room with echoing noises, beautiful, musical, and comforting. Samidare wrapped her arms around Shiroihana's naked shoulders and made a deep, calming sound in the back of her throat, almost a purr. Shiroihana at last let the stiffness wash out of her spine, flowing out into the water. She inclined her head to rest it on Samidare's. Her mother's scent, close and intimate, filled her nose, awakening an old and comforting warmth and making Shiroihana drowsy.

They stayed silently together in the bath until the water began to cool, then they parted, reconnected and filled with fondness—but also worry. Samidare left later that same day to join Shinkumaru and Sesshomaru in defending the Kosetsu and avenging the fallen Okou clan. Shiroihana found the Kagetsu palace, the place of her childhood, cold and foreboding.

Her dreams were filled with the premonition of death.

* * *

Endnote: Shiroihana young is very different from Shiroihana older! Anyone who's read _Return_ or _Innocence_ knows that! And about her brother…you can already see something bad is going to happen, because she has obviously reused this name. But why? Some of you (though it probably slipped your attention) may have noticed familiar names here: the Nanka. Guess who rules that later?


	2. Shiroihana: Koshoshiro

**The chapters were updated!! Go read the first one!! **

A/N: The poem here is called "Disbelief In Yourself is Indispensible." Watch out in this chapter! Question(s) answered: Where the heck did the whole "fluff" thing come from? First mention of the Dog General! Also…well…you'll see. This chapter came out LONG! A fact for which I apologize. But I want fewer chaps in this story than some of my others, and this part took off in a way I hadn't planned, but actually made A LOT of sense. So I let it flow out of me. Shiroihana has led a long and interesting life. Her section is probably the longest to bog through because she has such a history. Her first person blurb in the beginning here does not tell much on the surface, but between the lines...

Disclaimer: I do not own Sessmom! But the Kosetsu, Samidare, Shinkumaru etc. are kinda mine. Not to mention in about five hundred-ish years Koinu, Akisame, Kohimu, Tisoki, Kasai, Masuyo, Riki, Koudo, Saya, Meisomaru, Hanone, Ginrei, Shimofuri…and on and on.

Last chapter: Welcome to the Kosetsu, to all the little lands before the union of the Western Lands. Shiroihana was to be married to Okou Machitekishi of the Tengai lands, which run alongside the western coast of Japan. The Kosetsu is more inland comparatively. But the panthers swept up from the south and killed all of them, leaving the Tengai leaderless. Shinkumaru, Shiroihana's father, and her brother, Sesshomaru, as well as her mother all left to fight to protect their lands and their people. But Samidare, Shiroihana's mother has said they will lose without help. She told Shiroihana that she needs to seek out Koshoshiro from the Nanka.

* * *

"It is indispensible to be sleeplessly delirious,  
To fail, to leap into emptiness.  
Probably, only in despair is it possible  
To speak all the truth of this age." –Yevgeny Yevtushenko

* * *

Part 1: Shiroihana

A little over two centuries ago, shortly before my birth, the panthers first arrived in these islands. Where they came, no one really cared. Perhaps they descended from Heaven. Perhaps they crawled from the Sea. Perhaps they were birthed from the islands in an earthquake.

I've never cared much for such details. I am not dishonest enough to set forth a false record. I did not witness that first war. It was not a large war, or a long one that I can tell. It is barely mentioned in my mother's records. By the time I had come of age in the Kosetsu, the panthers had changed their method of attack and their numbers. They attacked the Tengai on the coast and slaughtered a clan there, the Okou. Of course this alarmed my mother, Queen Samidare of the Kosetsu. The war spilled over and passed into our lands.

This time it was much larger.

The panthers fancied that they could take over the entirety of our islands. Perhaps they observed our own petty squabbling, the divisions between individual dog demon clans made up of cousins. For their part the panthers were fairly unified. They had several great leaders and rallied behind them. We, as individual clans, had no one. As you know, that would soon change. But it did not begin with Inutaisho, the Dog General. It began in the Kosetsu, with Mother and myself.

From Mother, Father, and Sesshomaru on the battlefield I learned that the panthers that had invaded the Kosetsu were led by a cat called Ashitaro. He was a clever strategist and his warriors were not only felines, but any converted local youkai he could get to fight within his ranks.

It was six years before we defeated Ashitaro. He was the last to fall, but not because he was the best of the panthers' leaders. Ashitaro survived as long as he did merely because of luck. He was the panther who left the coastline first and invaded the deepest inland. He was the last panther to meet the Dog General in battle.

Meanwhile Mother pinned her hopes on alliance. The male spirit, had it been the one ruling the Kosetsu, would have faced the enemy alone and proud, and died. But Mother chose union, on the surface at least. Any union would be on the Kosetsu's terms and it would benefit our clan.

Mother left me with extensive notes, instructions and guidelines for my position as the figurehead Queen in her stead. Her notes were most invaluable. Our planned ally, Koshoshiro of the Nanka to the north and east of us, was also a potential husband. I could not go to him and grovel like a lowborn bitch. The alliance would take time and finesse to achieve the ultimate and best results. Koshoshiro could not have me without considerable work.

When the messengers returned from the Nanka, I learned that Koshoshiro was grieving deeply for his lost wife. His lands were recovering from war. He was in no place to aid us in that first year, yet he was cooperative. Over the summer and early fall I continued our correspondence. Neither of us spoke of a possible betrothal, though I suspect it was on his mind a great deal. He did not take a new wife over the winter and occasionally sent me letters asking for news on the battle.

I have often wondered what would have happened if Koshoshiro had been more forward and aggressive. We could have begun a courtship and in the second year of the panther war we could have met to exchange betrothal gifts and arrange our wedding. No such thing happened, though Koshoshiro and I did meet one another in the late fall of the second year of the panther war and many other times besides. He was an attractive specimen of the male spirit Mother spent so much time warning me of. He was very calm and levelheaded. He would have made a fine husband, a better husband than the Dog General. Yet Fate did not agree at that time. Koshoshiro has passed into the other world. I like to imagine that it was my influence, the majesty of the Kosetsu and its female inheritance, which prompted him at his death many years later to leave his daughter Taikokajin as his heir instead of his son.

There was a time, some hundred years, between Koshoshiro's death and Inutaisho's. It is a shame that those years passed so fleetingly, as swift as the time I spent nursing my son. My mother was correct in one aspect of the male spirit: It is ruled by chaos. And part of chaos is unpredictability, the swiftness of a husband, a son, an ally—a brother or a father—to turn and bite the hand that feeds him. Or to abandon her altogether. I have seen my husband do it, my son, and—

Some things I will never set to paper. Never commit to record. And yet I relive them every day, every moment that I think of my son, that I say his name. _Sesshomaru. How I have missed you. Both of you._

Perhaps the true meaning of my mother's lessons about male and female spirits is this: The male spirit inflicts loss. The female spirit endures it.

* * *

**Koshoshiro**

For months Shiroihana had inhabited Kagetsu palace alone. It was only the second year of the panther war and already Shiroihana had guessed that it would be a long, difficult war. She became aware of the patter of monkey youkai feet, of the suck and squish of the geckos. The palace haunted her with its emptiness. She rose each morning from bed, dressed in silence with the help of the monkey demons and geckos, drank tea in the empty tearoom and gazed at the walls. The silence deafened her. The occasional footstep of the servants sent her heart racing and taunted Shiroihana, reminding her of what was missing, what was at stake.

She was constantly waiting for letters, either from the battlefield where her family fought without her, or from the Nanka where Koshoshiro mourned his dead wife and watched his tiny baby girl grow. She had come to enjoy and anticipate Koshoshiro's letters as much as she did her own family's. Koshoshiro was open with her in a way that Machitekishi had not been. He did not seek to impress her, but became a friend though she had never met him. He was older than she was and though he did not propose marriage between them, he promised to lend her support in the coming years, as soon as he could manage it.

Shiroihana carried those promises deep in her heart, recalling them to give her strength when she poured over the letters that Samidare sent her. Samidare's letters were the most frequent and simultaneously said the most and the least. The bulk of her letters discussed how Shiroihana should act with Koshoshiro, how she should write to him, with what tone and style of calligraphy. She also reminded Shiroihana to meet with her advisers and messengers, to keep tabs on the morale of the humans and other youkai of the Kosetsu.

In the summertime, Shiroihana sent word to the humans that their Queen had gone to engage the panthers directly. She spread it through foxes, wolves, bears, and even other dog demons who had pledged their services to her family. The word she received back was positive. The news heartened refugees and all the common humans. It emboldened the warriors among the humans, giving them the courage they needed to resist the panthers and join alongside their immortal guardians.

Shiroihana herself had little interest in this rallying, but she found that she could create a convincing façade. The humans came to know her by name as they knew Samidare. They called her _hime,_ Princess. They added her name to their line of ancient Queens and prayed to her as a deity. Though Samidare was fighting, their lands had a future heir. Shiroihana also risked mentioning her brother and father in these reports. The men of the Kosetsu were as brave, strong, and powerful as the women.

In the fall added excitement came to the palace at last. Koshoshiro had sent messengers promising a visit. Shiroihana sent foxes to watch the road for any unusual, lordly travelers. The weather had changed, becoming cold very quickly in the year. The first frosts fell on unready crops. Shiroihana heard the news and quietly despaired. With a war challenging her people's prosperity they did not also need signs of disfavor from Heaven in the weather. Fortunately, Koshoshiro's visit spread on the lips of the people. They had heard of him. The Nanka, previously the site of brutal fighting between wolf, dog, and fox demons, had come under peace with his influence. Like Shiroihana, they saw the potential for a fine match between their _hime_ and the newly unmarried Koshoshiro.

News arrived just after midday by the foxes that Koshoshiro was coming. Shiroihana, who had grown accustomed to being unseen and locked away in the palace, rushed to ready herself. She snapped at the monkeys when they hooted or dawdled and eventually felt that her attempt at styling her hair had failed. She left it down, wild and flowing. A maiden's hair. A girl's hair. Not a Queen's. She did not feel as if she were a Queen yet. It might as well have been a lowborn inuyoukai she was meeting with. She would not impress him.

She raided her mother's stash of hair ornaments and at last felt minor satisfaction when she added them. Her favorites were white flowers attached to some clips. It fit her—considering that her name meant _white flower._

When a gecko appeared, slurping and hissing with its tongue, telling her that Koshoshiro had arrived and was waiting for her in the snowflake room, Shiroihana was ready. She did not leave Koshoshiro to wait very long, though it was against Samidare's instructions.

Koshoshiro was bowing before she had placed weight on her first step inside the bright, virgin white of the audience room. She sat smoothly, brushing the light silken fabric of her kimono. It was a pattern of summer butterflies in yellow and gold, set against a light blue. It was a sharp contrast to the winter scene of the painted screens around them.

"Lord Koshoshiro, please, sit up."

He had come alone, bringing no scribe and no gifts that Shiroihana could see. When he sat upright his long, smooth white hair fell forward over his shoulders. It was the same color as the blizzard scene on the walls. Shiroihana could not stop herself from smiling. He was _not_ Machitekishi. His build was closer to that of her brother's, thick and muscular. His robes were a different style than what she expected. He wore a vest with a thick white furred pelt. Shiroihana's eyes flew to it at once.

"Lord Koshoshiro is wearing a most lovely vest," she admitted.

Koshoshiro smiled, gentle and openhearted. "Thank you, Lady Shiroihana." He reached one hand up and stroked it tenderly. "The lady flatters me unnecessarily."

"It is a pleasure to finally see you," Shiroihana said, addressing him directly and dropping many degrees of formality. In the back of her mind, a line from Samidare's last letter repeated obsessively: _You are his equal and you must always show it. _She decided to risk being very forward with him. "I have heard that the losses on the battlefield have been dire." She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "You have often promised to aid my Queen in her quest to eradicate the panthers. It would be beneficial for us both to halt their advancement. Ashitaro has been relentless. It is not long before he will challenge the Nanka."

Koshoshiro cocked his head to one side slightly. "I believe, Lady Shiroihana, that there is considerable distance and time before Ashitaro will threaten my lands. Unfortunately I am not in the position to offer an army that could help Queen Samidare." He closed his eyes, frowning. "I am currently bringing the other clans under my control. It has been a difficult venture. Many of them have pledged their allegiance, but some have resisted."

"You cannot be parted with your army until you have complete support from the other clans," Shiroihana said, summarizing her understanding of Koshoshiro's explanation.

"That is correct." Koshoshiro stared at her with his bright blue eyes. The marks on his cheeks, three narrow streaks, were blue-green. The color made Shiroihana think of her brother and her father.

She sniffed and looked at the wall to rid herself of the image of her father and Sesshomaru. "Perhaps another arrangement could be made," she started, considering suggesting a betrothal at that moment. It would be improper and a complete breech of protocol considering that she was alone in the palace with no male protection—not that Shiroihana felt she had need of such protection. She knew how to defend herself, even from other youkai, and could have joined her mother on the battlefield, if not for the fact that she was the heir.

Koshoshiro's face warped with surprise and then an eagerness that made him suddenly appear youthful, a puppy chasing a ball. "What arrangement, my lady?"

Shiroihana smiled, enjoying his reaction, the suspense and excitement he felt at the possibility of their physical alliance. His daughter, though he often mentioned her in his letters, could not possibly satisfy him. And surely his bed was cold at night…

This thrill would be short lived. Shiroihana buried it, finding something else to say. If she did not suggest the marriage now it would stay in the air, hovering, waiting. She would wait Koshoshiro out and make him work for what he craved.

"Perhaps I might begin discussing your position with the other clans. It may speed the process."

Koshoshiro blinked but recovered his surprise quickly. "Does Lady Shiroihana mean that she will act as a moderator to our deliberations?"

Shiroihana liked this idea the longer it was within her mind. "Of course, Lord Koshoshiro. And the deliberation should take place here, in the Kosetsu. On neutral ground." She sat back, smug and self-satisfied. She took in Koshoshiro, admiring his face, his clothing, the white pelt of his unusual vest. _A fine inuyoukai._ Unlike Machitekishi, he was worthy of a match with the Kosetsu. With Shiroihana. "I will of course begin by writing to them. We must all unite to increase our strength and defeat the panthers."

"You will not go and visit each clan?" Koshoshiro asked, raising his eyebrows in consternation.

"My father and my brother would be the communicators normally," Shiroihana admitted. "But they cannot be here because of the war."

Something in her voice or her demeanor must have changed, though Shiroihana had tried to keep herself controlled very carefully, and Koshoshiro's face softened. He nodded to her sympathetically. "Lady Shiroihana must be very lonely in this exquisite but very large palace without her Queen or her male kin."

Alarm rose within Shiroihana, though she doubted there was any need of it. Koshoshiro was testing her, trying to force her true intentions for him out into the open. Shiroiahana could not give in, not yet. Although he was in her audience room, her lands, she was alone, vulnerable, and asking for his aid in a war that her people and her mother were losing.

She shrugged, a childish motion, and grinned deliberately down at him, showing more of her teeth than was necessary. "Silly Lord Koshoshiro, did you think that female inuyoukai cannot exist alone? I need no one's company." It was a bluff, but it worked. Koshoshiro blinked and lowered his head, thoroughly embarrassed.

"My apologies, Lady Shiroihana. I was wrong to assume that you would be like any other woman."

She dismissed him shortly after, refusing to let him stay overnight though she longed to inhale his scent beneath his furred vest and under robe, to see his hair blown in the breeze of a battlefield, to smell his blood, to taste it…

The day after Koshoshiro had left, Shiroihana felt ill. She snapped at the maids and paced. Her hands and fingers shook as she tried to compose the first letter to the other lords that Koshoshiro had told her were troubling him, refusing to submit to his will so that he could unite the four lands—future provinces—of the Middle Lands. The first was a haughty, arrogant inuyoukai named Nishiyori, eldest of a large and prosperous family. He was related to Shiroihana distantly, as most of the clans were, through her father Shinkumaru. Shiroihana found that her penmanship, her fine calligraphy, was so wobbly and ugly that she growled in fury and tore it up. Her next attempt was no better.

She had a temper tantrum, a fit of rage, and walked about the entirety of Kagetsu palace. She lingered in her brother and father's rooms, inhaling deeply, seeking their scent as comfort. She longed to taste blood and called for raw whale meat to be served to her. When it was too long in coming, Shiroihana slashed at the gecko maid, killing it. As she stared at its dead, bleeding body, the tray of whale meat spilled and scattered with the blood smeared over the floor, Shiroihana realized that she had entered a _heat._

Unlike humans, inuyoukai could not conceive at a monthly basis. Instead they remained infertile until the scent of a suitable male induced the reaction. The first one was always the most unpredictable and violent. On top of this was the fact that Shiroihana was already older than most female inuyoukai at the time of their first heat. Most women had them at the time of their earliest sexual maturity. The women of the household comforted them until it was over. Or, more likely, the heat occurred shortly after marriage. For most females they were married as political pawns to form alliances at a little over a hundred or a hundred and fifty years of age.

Shiroihana was already over 200. She was long passed her first sexual maturity. She had fallen into the heat after being with Koshoshiro for only an hour or so.

Ashamed of her loss of control, and her condition, Shiroihana cleaned the mess herself and had the monkeys dispose of the body. The geckos did not truly care for their lost comrade—they were cold and reptilian, unsocial beasts. If Shiroihana had struck down one of the monkeys, they all would have fallen on her in a rage. She would have had to kill all of them.

She did nothing for the next two weeks. The weather chilled and Shiroihana suffered through her feverish dreams, aware of her loneliness in the same way that a man would constantly have been aware of his sword. She did not write to her mother to ask what she should do, but determined that she should overcome it alone. The illness, the _heat_, was a long time in passing.

When she had at last recovered, Shiroihana set about writing to the other lords of the clans that had been a thorn in Koshoshiro's side for years. It was not long before she began to receive letters back. All of them were in turns intrigued with her offer and repulsed that they should be made to travel to the war torn Kosetsu and the distant Kagetsu palace. She spent the winter and spring of that year, now entering the third year of the panther war.

Spring saw new letters from her brother, father, and mother. Samidare approved of her daughter's plans, and had decided she would return to Kagetsu to be present for the deliberation. Her father and brother anticipated, from the condition of the spring, a thoroughly tough winter. They too planned to return in the fall, to rest. Shiroihana awaited their return daily as the weeks and months stretched on.

In the summertime Koshoshiro arrived for another visit. This time he brought a gift with him, carried by a scarred bodyguard, a black haired wolf demon who Koshoshiro introduced as one of his finest generals.

Shiroihana did not bow to Koshoshiro's general, but she smiled cordially and nodded her head. "I hope that soon you may lead Lord Koshoshiro's warriors to victory once more, General."

"On the battlefields of the Kosetsu and Tengai and south as well," the wolf grunted in reply. "Yes, I long for that too. I was not made for times of peace, they bore me."

His eyes were green, bright and intelligent. Shiroihana approved of him immediately. "What have you brought for me, Great Wolf?"

At the wolf's side, Koshoshiro's eyes crinkled with mirth. "I recalled how the Lady enjoyed my vest with the white pelt," he explained. "I had a pelt created for the Lady." He motioned, jerky and overeager at the wolf. The general grunted and rose from his spot to pick up the box beside him to place on the platform before Shiroihana.

It was not as beautiful a box as the one Machitekishi had brought her during their betrothal ceremony, but it excited Shiroihana more than that ceremony. This meeting was personal and his gift unrequested and genuinely thoughtful. As Shiroihana opened the box, she forced herself to restrain the desire to grin like a girl or to laugh with joy. Inside the box was a long boa, marvelously plush and thick and soft. Shiroihana found a spot, a line of fabric on one side, where she could have the boa sewn onto the collar of a kimono or an over robe that she might wear on the coldest days of the wintertime.

Its scent was strong and masculine. Koshoshiro had deliberately worn it for some time to mark it with his specific perfume. Shiroihana's heart was heavy, she felt each beat distinctively. She ran her hands along the pelt, awed and speechless.

Too soon she became aware that an inappropriate amount of time had passed between her examination of the gift and the proper gratitude. The wolf and Koshoshiro were staring at her with amusement and anticipation. Shiroihana felt again the male curiosity that the ruling women of the Kosetsu brought out in men. They were watching her for an obvious feminine reaction, waiting. Shiroihana decided that they would receive nothing more than what she had already given them.

She closed the box and bowed. "This is a fine gift, Lord Koshoshiro. I am honored by it. I will wear it as soon as the weather is appropriate." She was lying. She would have it sewn to her summer robes to carry Koshoshiro's scent with her the rest of the summer until at last the boa accepted and adhered to her unique scent.

It would almost certainly send her into another torturous heat, but at that moment Shiroihana did not care. A bizarre warmth started inside her, deep in her loins. If the wolf had not been present, she would have broken and brought up the suggestion of marriage and betrothal. In fact, the boa was an appropriate betrothal gift all in itself. Perhaps she already owed him…

That thought sobered her. She called to a monkey demon sitting near the door to the audience room. "Please take Lord Koshoshiro's gift to the storage room and place it with the winter kimono."

As the monkey moved to do what she asked, Shiroihana faced her guests once more. The wolf appeared mildly annoyed at her reaction, perceiving an insult to his lord when she had asked the monkey to put the boa _in storage._ Koshoshiro, however, was smiling and his blue eyes were bright with amusement. _He sees right through me._

They discussed the panther demon war, the upcoming deliberation that Shiroihana and Samidare would moderate to help Koshoshiro unite the Middle Lands under his rule in the Nanka. They talked for two hours and then Shiroihana dismissed them.

The next heat was more torturous than the first because of the boa, deliberately spiked by a male scent. Shiroihana wore it in spite of the illness and her increasing irritability and restlessness, but after a week she could no longer bear it and put it away. This heat lasted for nearly a month, much too long. Her scent had not completely recovered by the time Samidare arrived back in the Kagetsu to prepare for the deliberations regarding the lords of the Middle Lands.

Shiroihana met her mother on the steps of the palace, sensing her arrival. Even in midday the long stairway was shrouded in mist. Green-yellow lights hovered to either side, growing brighter as Samidare ascended the stairs. She could have floated up them like a specter herself, mimicking the ghostly lights, but she was in no hurry. Shiroihana had sensed her mother's incoming arrival, picking up her approaching aura. She knew that Samidare would take in her daughter's scent and know, but she could not predict how Samidare would react.

At the top of the stairs, Samidare was not winded, but she appeared tired, older than when Shiroihana had last seen her nearly three years previously. Shiroihana bowed low and deep to her mother. "My Queen…"

Samidare halted. Shiroihana watched her mother's feet, bound tightly in boots, scuffed and dirtied with travel and war. Samidare's armor extended over her thighs, but she carried only one sword, smaller than what Shinkumaru or Sesshomaru would have brought into battle. Her hair had been pinned back, restrained very simply and almost inelegantly. The weight of her stare and her silence as she watched her daughter nearly strangled Shiroihana.

At last, Samidare said, "Shiroihana—what has happened?"

Shiroihana rose out of her bow and met her mother's golden eyes. Her back was stiff, erect. She was taller than Samidare, leaner and with harder, more refined features than her mother, who appeared more womanly and maternal naturally with a fuller, plumper face and soft lips. Yet Samidare's eyes were always as hard as a hawk's. "Lord Koshoshiro came to visit me with a wolf general."

"For how long?" Samidare barked, alarmed.

"Three hours, no more. He left me with a fine gift, a white pelt boa. He must have worn it—it smells very strongly of him."

"Was this a betrothal ceremony?" Samidare demanded.

Shiroihana shook her head. "No, Mother. My Queen advised that I should not go easily to Lord Koshoshiro. I have been waiting for him to come to me."

Samidare's shoulders fell. "You should be betrothed. He's taunting you. Men do not suffer through heats. The gift was scented with the express purpose of taunting you."

"I know," Shiroihana murmured. "Was it wrong to accept it?"

"Of course not!" Samidare snapped. Then she sighed and began walking again. Shiroihana followed closely behind her, aware of every tiny sound that Samidare's armor and booted feet made as she moved. Her mother's scent was immediately comforting.

Samidare led her into a storage room filled with potions, spells, and herbs. Much of it was untouchable to inuyoukai, but had been collected and put away by humans. Talismans that Shinto and Buddhist shamans had placed around the mountain to ward off spirits and such. It could burn the fingers or hands of an inuyoukai, though none of it could kill outright.

Samidare pulled up a silken bag that stank of earth and worms and pill bugs. She opened it and held it up, showing it to Shiroihana. "Memorize this scent, Daughter. It is important that you keep it in stock. Every Queen should know of it, every female of childbearing age, human or dog, wolf or bear. Even the damned panthers."

Shiroihana was silent, surprised at the vehemence of her mother's curse.

"You remember that I warned you against having many children. This is the secret. You must take it to ward off heats in a tea at a low dose. And if there is an unwanted child you must eat it raw, several of the roots in one day. The pain will be great, you will bleed, but you will not regret it."

Shiroihana knew abruptly that her mother had experienced this. As her mother closed the bag and stowed it away, she watched the glint of Samidare's armor, spiked and wicked. How many pups had Samidare washed away in blood? How many heats had she disrupted? Had she felt Sesshomaru stirring in her womb and considered eating the herbs because he was a son and not a daughter?

Even more disturbing, Shiroihana did not know whether ultimately Samidare had made the right decision. She adored Sesshomaru, had spent much of her childhood playing and training with him, but as he grew stronger and stronger, he could threaten Shiroihana and Samidare as Queens. And if he led an uprising, the world would follow him because men controlled it and they would approve of his ambition. Sesshomaru could bring the Kosetsu to civil war. He could force Shiroihana and Koshoshiro—as ally or husband—to kill him.

Strange emotions washed over her as she and Samidare exited the storage room. Shiroihana could not identify it exactly, but she later thought it a dark awe of her mother, a new appreciation of the struggle of the Kosetsu, of its Queens, of her own future.

Perhaps it was premonition, but Sesshomaru had never shown any sign of disloyalty or unrest. _Let his heart be open and gentle,_ Shiroihana prayed, though to who or what she did not know.

* * *

In the following month autumn officially began according to the calendar. The weather darkened and grew swiftly poor. The humans managed just barely to rescue their crops. They had anticipated another harsh winter, just as Shiroihana's family had.

The deliberations began. The war came to a short halt as even the panthers accepted the cruelty of the upcoming winter. The reports by Samidare's messenger foxes began to slow into a trickle. The panthers had retreated closer to the coastline. They were short of food and the mountains inland were too harsh for even their thick coats to endure.

Shiroihana had become accustomed to sitting alone on the audiences with her mother's advisers, messengers, and important guests like Koshoshiro. Now she found herself sitting behind Samidare once more. Although it was a return to the past and security, she resented the loss of power and control, even if that power had been illusionary with Samidare very much still the living and residing Queen.

They met many lords, their heirs, their generals or bodyguards. Nishiyori had a great retinue with him and constantly regarded the discussions arrogantly. Though he said little, when he did speak it was mostly to quibble and gripe that _his_ family had been too much demoted by Koshoshiro. He pushed for a marriage between his clan and Koshoshiro. Samidare deftly maneuvered around Nishiyori's demands, but she did not suggest that Shiroihana should marry him either. Sitting quietly, saying little during most of the meetings, Shiroihana gazed at Koshoshiro with increasing desperation. Would he not speak out and suggest the alliance between himself the Kosetsu via marriage? Was there someone else?

The discussions lasted several weeks. The lords stayed in the Kagetsu. Many of them complimented the palace as serene and beautiful, even bewitching. Samidare hosted large meals in great dining halls that could not accompany the entire group. Shiroihana often ate elsewhere, in the small tearoom, alone. She drank the special herbal tea to stop the heat that she knew would take over her with so many other inuyoukai present. Even so she found herself waking at night, too hot, bathed in sweat, or at other times she wandered over the terraces, frantic for the fresh air, the scent of wild things and not other inuyoukai. She had spent so much of her life secluded with family that all of the clans now overwhelmed her.

Her father and Sesshomaru returned shortly after the first snow, at the same time that the final discussions had finished and treaties had been reached. Shiroihana met them outside on the stairs, despite the cold. The clank of their armor was louder than Samidare's had been, and they appeared tired but refreshed by the war. Shinkumaru bowed to her when he saw her and his first words to her were a joke, that he had mistaken her for Queen Samidare.

Sesshomaru also bowed, but it was more perfunctory. Even so his face and eyes were alight with pleasure at arriving home and seeing her again. After they had been greeted formally by Samidare, Sesshomaru walked with Shiroihana through the palace, talking in a passionate but quiet voice of the war, the panthers, and every tiny rumor or story he had not been able to share with her in letters. He wore two swords at his waist, and Shiroihana could feel them singing with power.

"May I hold them?" she asked.

Sesshomaru drew one slowly, a thinner blade that glowed in Shiroihana's eyes. He presented it to her, ducking his head low in honor to her. "This is Gekkani. It was forged over the winter of the second year of the war."

Shiroihana accepted the blade, touching it reverently. A swirling pattern had been carved into the hilt and the blade. Its power reached to her querulously, uncertain of her but recognizing the familiarity of her aura. "It is very beautiful," she murmured as she handed it back.

"It absorbs demonic energy," Sesshomaru informed her proudly. He sheathed it and the sword sang in its sheath, ringing in a high, proud voice. He drew the other with a hard smile, a mirthless curl of the lips. "This is Shurajou. The blood-letter."

This sword was larger and heavier. It weighed down Shiroihana's hands and stung faintly. Shiroihana handed it back to her brother, shaking her head. "I don't believe Shurajou likes me very much."

"She is a feisty blade; she does not accept an idle bearer." Sesshomaru sheathed the sword with great care. "It was a gift from a very strange inuyoukai general."

"Oh?" Shiroihana asked. They began walking once more. The terrace was dark but their eyes were strong, able to pierce the gloom.

"He arrived from the mainland and engaged the panthers on the coast, in the Tengai. He converts their troops or sends them fleeing in terror. I have been privileged to have seen him in person. Father and I could not believe the stories that were coming to us from the humans and foxes that came over the borders from the Tengai, or from fleeing panthers when we captured them. They say he is the last of the Okou, come to avenge his entire clan."

"It sounds like a meaningless war story," Shiroihana muttered, unimpressed. "A mongrel risen to show off for the clans. Perhaps he hopes to be adopted or to steal the Tengai by pretending to be one of the Okou."

"I have seen him," Sesshomaru shot back, sounding irritated. "It is not a story. I was skeptical of his story, as was Father. You know, Queen Samidare has suggested that when the war is over the Kosetsu will annex the Tengai because it is leaderless. It would be a very smart investment. We could have another palace built, right on the sea."

"But now that this stranger has come claiming to be one of the Okou…" Shiroihana scowled, worrying silently while she appeared outwardly to be teasing Sesshomaru. She had already anticipated that if they were victorious against the panthers, pushing them back into the far south, their clan would take over the Tengai. Sesshomaru could rule those lands…He would deserve them.

"Father and Queen Samidare sent me to challenge him. Quietly, of course." Sesshomaru's lips curled in a small frown. "He has the scent and appearance of the Okou."

Shiroihana laughed. "If that's true then he must be small bodied and bookish!"

Sesshomaru shook his head. "He is older than I am and fully mature. He did not strike me as very intelligent, but he is a warrior the equal of any on the battlefield. But I cannot stop myself from thinking that he is untruthful in some way."

"What is his name?" Shiroihana asked, perplexed that Sesshomaru had not mentioned this strange inuyoukai warrior and general by a proper name just yet.

Sesshomaru stared at the floor, at his booted feet with a deep scowl. He caressed the hilts of his swords absently, as if it were an unconscious act that he had no control over. Shiroihana realized that her brother had changed, darkening in character slightly since she had last seen him. He had seemingly inherited Samidare's somber nature, not Shinkumaru's more lighthearted demeanor.

"I do not know his proper name. He is from the mainland and has been there for at least two hundred years. His Japanese is accented. He called himself 'Guo Wang.' But in our language he called himself 'Inutaisho.'"

Unlike Sesshomaru, who had not spent as much time learning about the mainland, Shiroihana understood the Chinese. "Dog King?" she asked, laughing in a loud, abrupt chuckle.

Sesshomaru scowled. "Is that what it means?"

Shiroihana nodded. "Yes, and he has misnamed himself in our tongue, putting the words together like that. Very arrogant. You said he is not very intelligent?"

"It is presumptuous of me to judge one I have known for so short a time. I am only grateful that he is such an inspirational leader. If he wants to call himself Dog General I see no problem in it." Sesshomaru stared straight ahead toward the doors leading away from the terrace. His shoulders were stiff, the muscles in his temples stuck out.

_He does not truly like this Dog King, _Shiroihana realized. In spite of glowing praise, Sesshomaru disliked him, but he would not admit it outright. _How odd._

_

* * *

  
_

The winter passed in unusual calm. Few reports came to the Kosetsu from the panthers, though usually they did not let the chill and snow of winter stop their quest for land and power. Shiroihana continued writing occasionally to Koshoshiro, and she took up wearing the boa he had given her, though his scent taunted her. She battled internally with the desire—the outright need—to suggest that they marry. Koshoshiro wrote to her mostly about how the Middle Lands had come together, a large plot held by his guidance. He imagined a greater realm that could include the Kosetsu and the Tengai too.

"_A land stretching from the west of this island to the east. A great swathe ruled over in balance by the yin and the yang, the male and the female. It would be a marvelous achievement."_

Shiroihana agreed, but felt continual disappointment that Koshoshiro never followed the rest of that sentence out as she expected and needed him to do. If only he had finished by saying, _"We will rule together, as husband and wife, lord and lady._" She would have had to correct him that she would be a Queen, but it would be good enough.

In the spring Shiroihana bade her family goodbye again. Rumor from the battlefield was that the panthers had hurriedly left the coast, diving inland once more, attacking the Kosetsu. They had been active all winter, preparing and fighting a losing battle of their own. The Dog General had been making them pay dearly for the slaughter of the Okou. Whispers and rumors spread wildly about him. He could not lose a battle. The panthers themselves bowed to him before a battle, quaking with fear. The earth shook when he took a step in his true form. His teeth and fangs were as mighty as the mountains of Japan.

Shiroihana believed none of it. She expected a foolish, overblown brute who would die before he had conquered a mighty and formidable panther general like Asitaro, the cat who had now troubled her family for four years.

The war picked up over the summer intensely. Letters became spotty and sparse, but messengers came and went from the battlefield to Kagetsu, reassuring Shiroihana that her family lived, though they were struggling to keep the desperate panthers back. Eventually news of a different kind reached her: Koshoshiro and the Nanka had at last found that the fighting spilled over into their lands. He asserted that the time had finally come for him to ally with Queen Samidare, to let his armies, the united Middle Lands, join her in battle. He would visit in a week.

Shiroihana dreaded the visit and longed for it, certain that now he would suggest that the treaty between them involve marriage. She did not eat most of the week and could not stomach the herbal tea in her overexcitement. Outwardly she showed nothing, though there was no one to witness her stoicism, but inwardly she was a wreck, tormented by desire and apprehension. A premonition had stared in her the previous fall during the deliberations when she had had to sit behind Samidare and hear discussion of Koshoshiro marrying a sister or cousin of Nishiyori. She dreamt that Koshoshiro would arrive in the audience room and pledge his allegiance to her as an ally—and nothing more. He would already be betrothed to someone else though his letters had contained no such news, only funny, silly tales of his tiny daughter drooling or learning or speaking her first words.

She wore the boa about her shoulders when he arrived, though she had agonized over the decision. Koshoshiro had come with a scribe and parchment prepared to set their alliance to permanent record.

After initial greetings to one another and a very brief exchange of pleasantries—where Koshoshiro related his daughter's first sentences to her nanny in the Nanka—they dug deep and seriously into the alliance between them. They discussed the length of the treaty, what each land and ruler owed to the other in goods, money, or in military support. Koshoshiro pledged his armies to Samidare and after her to Shiroihana, to the good of the Kosetsu.

"What challenges the Kosetsu faces, whatever troubles its Queen, my family will be there," Koshoshiro vowed, bowing low and touching his forehead to the matting. His hair had been tied back tightly, not loose the way Shiroihana had first seen it. It moved freely and Shiroihana's nose, hypersensitive to him, filled with his scent. Her claws dug into the matting at her sides with tension.

"What dangers face the Nanka and the Middle Lands, the Kosetsu and her Queens will rise to meet them in kinship with Lord Koshoshiro." Shiroihana bowed to him as well, touching her forehead to the floor as he had, one of very few such bows she would give to another being, a man. She had worked very hard before Koshoshiro's arrival, fashioning her hair and painting her face as a true Queen might have done, as Samidare certainly would have.

The scribes, the fox that Koshoshiro had brought and the dexterous monkey that Shiroihana's family always employed, came forward with the two documents, exchanging them between both inuyoukai. Shiroihana glanced over and signed Koshoshiro's copy, then handed it to the monkey and the process reversed as she took her own copy back and laid her signature onto it at last. The treaty allied Koshoshiro and the Nanka together as one for the next two hundred years. It was a time period that Shiroihana had agreed to, thinking little of it except that it was the right time needed for a child to come of age. She herself was fully grown and actually overdue for marriage at over two hundred years.

As the scribes rolled and bound the scribes to put them into storage, one for the road back to the Nanka in a small wooden box, the other for it to be placed with the other records of the Kosetsu, Koshoshiro said," It is time once again for me to depart, my lady."

He had mentioned nothing of marriage. Shiroihana's heart twisted inside her ribs. She could no longer hold herself back. "No, Lord Koshoshiro, you must stay! We must take some time together. We might read or eat a meal or walk—"

"It is late, Lady Shiroihana, but you have sent me on the road much later than this before!" he was lighthearted and teasing, but Shiroihana suspected something darker, hidden just beneath his skin. He paused, changing before her eyes, becoming distant and reserved. "It would be improper to stay here in Queen Samidare's absence."

"Nonsense," Shiroihana snapped and then blinked at the harshness of her own voice. "Surely we have much more to discuss…" She floundered, trying to find a topic aside from her frenzied longing to seal their alliance not in ink, but blood and skin and sweat and…_to be one with him, one land, one body and one mind. _The months and full seasons of loneliness weighed on her physically and mentally. She could not let him leave her with nothing but a cold, inanimate, fragile bit of paper assuring her that she would see him again. There had to be _more._

"Lady Shiroihana…" Koshoshiro began, gazing at her with pinched lips, suddenly appearing haggard.

Shiroihana ignored him. "You will stay here tonight. There is no harm in that. Tell me—" Her mind skipped over topics and landed on one so quickly that it surprised even her "—when will you send your armies to aid Queen Samidare and the Kosetsu? Will it come in the fall or not until next year?"

Koshoshiro sighed, relaxing only faintly. "My goal was to have my armies amassed in less than a week. Already we have had skirmishes and good-sized battles at the borders of our land, in the south west." He smiled gleefully. "In Nishiyori's lands to be exact. That was why I was able so soon to solidify our alliance, Lady Shiroihana. When danger was at his door knocking, suddenly he was very willing to unite under my influence and with yours as well. Though he would never tell you, he is impressed with you and with Queen Samidare. I have discussed you at length with him."

"Is that so?" Shiroihana asked, halfway feigning interest. What did she care for Nishiyori? "You," she called, jabbing her clawed finger at the monkey scribe as he slipped back into the door after taking the signed scroll away to storage. "Please escort Lord Koshoshiro's scribe and his things to an appropriate room. And have the maids clear a room in the west wing for Lord Koshoshiro."

The monkey squawked and said, "Yes my lady!"

The fox watched Koshoshiro and Shiroihana as he walked by with a knowing smirk as he followed the monkey out of the room. Koshoshiro followed the fox's progress out the door as well, his blue eyes trailing along after them like a raindrop, fat and perfectly round, rolling slowly down a window pane. The monkey did not close the door to the audience room after him, annoying Shiroihana because it was not her proper place to close the door. Doors were for servants and maids, not princesses or Queens or lords. So she ignored it.

"I thought we might speak alone," Shiroihana said, hardly daring to breathe.

Koshoshiro's brow furrowed with both sculpted eyebrows lifting high into his forehead. "Clearly, my lady. What is on your mind?"

Shiroihana did not know what to say. She had spent so much of her time avoiding speaking what was in her heart and pulsing, throbbing deep inside, that now with the chance for it to escape, nothing emerged willingly. She brushed at her kimono and reached up to pet the boa, a nervous motion that would stay with her through the rest of her life.

"There is an important matter that we have never discussed," she said at last.

Koshoshiro nodded sadly and Shiroihana felt her soul cracking. Before he had spoken she knew the truth. She had waited too long. She had lost him. Her premonition had been right.

"One element of my deliberation with Nishiyori and the other lords involved a betrothal over the winter between myself and a young female of Nishiyori's choice. I refused marriage with him in hopes that Lady Shiroihana would show her desire for marriage, but the princess of the Kosetsu was unlike any other woman I have known or will likely ever know. She acts on her Queen's wishes but has such vast freedom and self-will. I have come to love and adore her as a charming friend and sister—but I can no longer offer myself to her honestly as a mate or husband."

Shiroihana heard his words but found that she could not see. She saw brief impressions of her clenched fists in her lap, obscured by her massive sleeves. Her eyes were hot, her chest tight. She growled out, "Who is she?"

"My betrothed?" Koshoshiro asked, quietly.

"Who else would I ask about?" Shiroihana shouted. Still she could not look at him. A green glow had started in her fists. It spilled out of her kimono sleeves, glowing like the ghost lights that lined the massive stairway leading into Kagetsu palace itself.

"I have offended Lady Shiroihana," Koshoshiro whispered, so softly that she could barely hear it through the rushing of her furious heartbeat. "Forgive me." She heard his clothing rustle as he bowed. A long silence passed and then he rose out of it and said, "I felt that if the Lady Shiroihana and her Queen mother felt me a suitable mate that they would not be shy in asking it of me. It seemed so perfect—I could not understand why my daughter was left motherless, why I suffered losing my beautiful wife—but it made sense when I first saw Lady Shiroihana, when I first read her lovely letters…"

"Who is she?" Shiroihana demanded again. She had not lifted her eyes from her lap yet.

After a thick silence, Koshoshiro said, "She was handpicked by Lord Nishiyori, the daughter of a close family friend. She is not of particularly high birth, but she is sweet-natured and soft spoken. Marrying her will appease Nishiyori and ensure peace—and it allows me to aid the Kosetsu against the panthers as I have longed to do for four years now. Furthermore I have already signed away my daughter in marriage. She is betrothed to a young male child, a close relative of Nishiyori's, Haiseishoku. Our families will be intertwined for some time, ensuring peace in the Middle Lands."

He paused and then his voice changed, becoming sharper with restrained anger. "If Lady Shiroihana were in my position, surely she would have done the same for the betterment of the future? There is no sin in my decision. I have waited for _three years_—more even! Waited and waited for your—" He had dropped his formality, addressing her directly and harshly. "Each letter, I inspected and found nothing! You do not know Lady Shiroihana…" He stopped, cutting himself off.

Shiroihana glanced up at the abrupt stop, glaring at him. Koshoshiro was staring at the white walls, his eyes narrowed and his lips curled in a frustrated snarl. The wet sheen of his blue irises was like a mirror of water, reflecting the bright white of the painted snowflakes and blizzard winter scene on the walls. He chewed on his last words, making them hard and guttural. "I am bound to this marriage—but I do not want it."

It was unspoken, but Shiroihana did not need him to say it: _I want you._

She was breathless, forgetting how to breathe. Her hands ached from clenching, she shook them out. She fumbled for words. "It is not the way of a Queen or the daughter of the Kosetsu to be so blunt. Such plans are not to be our idea in a time of need and war."

"Stupidity," Koshoshiro barked. "You have no one to blame for this loss but yourself."

Shiroihana hissed with outrage. She was on her feet before she had realized what was happening. She crossed the ten feet or so between herself and Koshoshiro in a lunge. She grasped his kimono collar. Her claws bit into the fabric and tore his skin. The metallic scent of blood, rich and intoxicating, entered the air.

Koshoshiro slashed at her, knocking her grip from him. He controlled his strength and his claws. He did not break Shoiroihana's skin or tear the fine fabric of her kimono. He glared at her viciously, his lips curling in a snarl. His white teeth glinted. "Control yourself!"

Shiroihana was panting, standing only five feet away. Her head swarmed, dizzy with rage and lust. A few drops of blood had beaded at his throat and collarbone where she had cut him with her claws. Shiroihana's mouth was abruptly filled with saliva. The desire to taste him…

Koshoshiro loosened his robes slightly, touching the blood, flicking it away or licking it from his fingertips, clearly trying to avoid a stain. Shiroihana meanwhile thought nothing of her own elaborate robes or her detailed hairstyle and the dangling, jingling hair decorations. When Koshoshiro looked at her, his face softened, his nostrils flared and his pupils swelled until his eyes were nearly black. He shook his head curtly. "You are too old to be unmarried. Why did you not suggest it on our first meeting?"

Shiroihana shrugged the white pelt boa off her shoulders and kicked it away with one foot. She was breathing hard, roughly. "You are not married."

"I am betrothed," Koshoshiro insisted.

"You do not want her. You said as much. Annul it and marry me. Your daughter can stay betrothed to appease Nishi…" She scowled, forgetting his name and deciding it hardly mattered. She could smell Koshoshiro's arousal, a thick, exhilarating musk that flushed her skin with heat and set her loins aching.

Koshoshiro lifted his chin stubbornly. "I cannot, my lady. It is too late."

"You cannot say no to me," Shiroihana insisted, slurring the words as if drunk.

Koshoshiro was frowning. "I can and I have. I have signed a fair and clean alliance with you, which I will make good on, but the chance for marriage between us has come and gone. You have missed it."

Shiroihana lunged for him, grabbing him around the neck. "I will make you!" she shouted. Koshoshiro stared into her eyes, ignoring her attack, her strong grip at his neck and the green glow of her fingers and claws. His mouth parted, his lips curled. He appeared about to speak but then pressed his lips into hers and pulled her body into his.

The shock of his acceptance was one of the greatest thrills of Shiroihana's life. She cried out, half-laughing with giddy relief. Koshoshiro bit into her neck, drawing her blood viciously, hungrily. His breath was hot and moist, thick and heavy. Shiroihana wrapped her legs around him and grabbed the tie that restrained his hair, tugging violently on it until his hair fell wild and free.

Koshoshiro pulled away from her, gasping. A ring of blood encircled his lips and stained the spaces between his teeth. He tugged demandingly on her robes. "Off…" he barked.

Dazedly, Shiroihana fumbled and shed the outer robe, too rich and luxurious to be stained with blood stains. She barely managed to open the simpler under robe, a deep brown with yellow flowers at the hem, collar, and sleeves before Koshoshiro absorbed her full attention once again, kissing her mouth, tasting it, stroking her hair and inhaling the scent around her shoulders and neck. Shiroihana dug her claws into his shoulders and chest, clinging to him. There was no pain when he entered, but Shiroihana cried out, yipping and gasping with each thrust.

They were standing in the center of the white room, the snowflakes blowing around them. Shiroihana saw Koshoshiro's white hair fly up around them as he dropped down to the floor, pinning her down. His hair surrounded her like ice or an avalanche. He had not completely shed his haori or the undershirt, but it was open and he had slipped his hakama down. Shiroihana felt his muscles working as he moved over her, heard his growls and gasps, and saw his blue eyes roll and then lock with her own.

This was the oneness she had needed and craved. The suddenness of the event left her no time for shock or doubt, only ecstasy. Her back arched and the world fuzzed out of existence.

* * *

Koshoshiro stayed in the Kagetsu palace for two full days after first arriving. He barely left Shiroihana's bed in that time and spent much of it as nude as the day he had been born. Shiroihana was the same, keeping the door shut and lounging beside him throughout the day and night. Shamelessly she called for food when they were hungry and did not bother to make sure she was dressed in more than a thin night robe when the food finally came. They did not think, did not talk, only existed in pleasure, eloping from the world. The panthers still fought, soldiers died and fell on the battlefield, never to rise again while Shiroihana and Koshoshiro gave them no thought.

Kagetsu palace, which had been so serene and dour and silent for years with the coming of the panthers now erupted with the moans, squeaks, and shouts of rapture.

As suddenly as the affair—for that was what it was, in spite of Shiroihana's half-formed thoughts of it as a new promise, a strange betrothal—began, it came crashing to a halt.

Koshoshiro awoke on the morning of his third day in Kagetsu palace and blinked blearily as he found himself staring at Shiroihana in full naked splendor. When she reached for him, Koshoshiro pushed her hand away and slid out of the bed. His expression was tense and unhappy.

"What is it?" Shiroihana asked. Her voice was rough with abuse. She had not used it to speak properly in days.

"Get dressed," he ordered, stiffly. As he turned away from her he closed his eyes. A look passed over his features—despair. "This has been a terrible mistake."

Outrage overthrew the lazy, languid mood of the last two days. Shiroihana sat up and watched Koshoshiro search the room, snatching up bits and pieces to his clothes. A sash here, an undershirt there.

"What's wrong?" Shiroihana demanded.

Koshoshiro did not answer her until he had donned a sufficient amount of clothing to cover his nakedness. He did not look at her as he tied and straightened each article of clothing. "We have behaved like children, Lady Shiroihana."

There had been nothing childlike in their encounter to Shiroihana. She followed his lead, dressing as best as she could. Her hair was not neat and tidy, but it managed to be presentable. She was not ashamed of her body or her behavior, only irritated at Koshoshiro's reaction.

"I must leave immediately," Koshoshiro muttered. "I am expected back in the Nanka in only a day." He moved to the door, leaving a rich male scent in his wake. Shiroihana closed her eyes, fighting the mixture of lust and despair that rose within her as he slid the door open.

She followed him at a distance, gradually realizing that Koshoshiro had made no promises to marry her. Nothing had changed—but Shiroihana did not regret the experience. Her virginity, her loneliness, the constant threat of the war that she had never seen or been part of, had been as far from her as the mainland for two days. She would cherish those moments and wish that they could have stretched out into eternity.

Koshoshiro dressed more appropriately and gathered the fox, ignoring the sneaky and smirking glances that his scribe gave him as he ordered the kitsune about with an undue amount of annoyance. In the white room with its winter scene, where they had fallen on each other, colliding like water and sand during the tide, Koshoshiro at last hesitated, facing Shiroihana once more while the fox waited, ready to leave.

He closed the distance between them, embracing her and inhaling deeply. Shiroihana returned it hungrily, unable to bear the reality that awaited her: months of loneliness and isolation, the uncertainty of the war and her own future.

"I will never forget our time together," Koshoshiro whispered, using familiar, intimate words, speaking them directly into her ear.

Shiroihana shuddered, filled with longing. Heat swept over her face and tears burned in her eyes though she refused to shed them. "You will try to break the engagement?" She clutched at his arms, his chest. "You are not meant for her—we should be married! If only you had asked me…"

Koshoshiro shook his head, pursing his lips sternly. He caressed her cheek. "If I can convince Nishiyori to change the agreement I will return to you no matter the season. What has happened between us—or what does or does not eventually happen—will not change my support. The Kosetsu will see victory. The armies of the Middle Lands will be with the Queen in the fall." He knelt slightly and kissed her, a warm and tender act that at last brought the tears pilling from Shiroihana's eyes, not just one or two, but dozens.

He drew away and turned his back on her, leaving swiftly. "I will write!" he called over his shoulder.

A maid slid the door closed after them. Shiroihana held her breath, listening to the thump of his tread as it vanished, moving beyond the foyer of Kagetsu and onto the open stairway. When he was out of her hearing range, Shiroihana hiccupped, stifling her tears and left the white room, despising it for the pain it caused her, the memory of the ecstasy she had shared, so brief, so beautiful.

Already the premonition had come to her, insidious and undeniable: Koshoshiro would not be able to escape his arranged marriage and disaster hovered nearby, close enough that she could almost smell it.

* * *

A month later Koshoshiro's letters came, reporting sweet stories of his infant daughter, that she had held a brush for the first time. And that he had kept his promise. The armies of the Middle Lands had left the Nanka and marched into the Kosetsu. Shiroihana would not see them, but Koshoshiro would be among them in the following spring and Nishiyori was already leading them. The panthers would be defeated, peace would return to the islands.

The letters from her family were morbid, speaking of Ashitaro's ruthlessness and rage in battle. Shinkumaru had suffered a grievous wound, but would recover. Their losses had been staggering. Koshoshiro's aid had come at the last moment. Samidare wrote asking of rumors she had heard—Koshoshiro had two alliances, two betrothals. She wanted to know the truth.

Shiroihana replied to all of the letters to the best of her ability, but grief and turmoil had swallowed her whole, the same way that the heron snatches its prey from their watery homes and devours them with no warning. To Koshoshiro she offered praise and thanks, but said little else. To her brother she asked more about the battle, the losses, and their father's health. To her mother she said there was no betrothal between the Kosetsu and the Nanka, but Koshoshiro was engaged to someone else.

Then she pleaded with her mother to come home. _"I am in desperate need of your guidance."_

She did not risk putting her darkest secret onto any of the letters in any form at all. Once a day she entered the storage room where Samidare had shown her the herbs and opened it, sniffing them. Each day she closed the bag and put it away, putting off the decision.

Shiroihana was pregnant.

* * *

Endnote! Before anyone asks me or gets upset... NO! Koshoshiro is NOT Sesshomaru's father! (Sess as in Shiroihana's son/Inuyasha's brother! I'm not that insane, not breaking those rules.) But there is no rule saying Sessmom was a saintly woman and the way I've portrayed her...I think this makes sense. She is NOT a victim. Inutaisho comes close to making her one, but she's more complex than that. I looked at the manga and studied her before writing _Innocence_ and _Return_ with her appearing in them. She didn't strike me as being typical at all. So why should any of her past, with or without IT be average or ordinary? She's my hero. Plus it sets interesting things up later that cloud the picture between Sessmom/Inupapa. And (drum roll please?) enter the infamous and ongoing dog demon fluff! In this story, copyrighted to Koshoshiro apparently. So Sessmom started the trend, and she's wearing it and thinking about...guess who...Ah, complications!


	3. Shiroihana: From Queen to Queen

A/N:In honor of Thanksgiving...I am stuck watching football with my fiance and the CEO of the company I want to intern with. Eek. Did I mention I DESPISE football? I cannot get out of their soon enough.

Note that in her beginning blurb, Shiroihana will not talk about the pregnancy. She will also not directly say she was involved with Koshoshiro. So it's more accurate to do this in third person than first, because in first we have to like assume she's writing it down—and she wouldn't do that. She's brazen and unashamed, but she doesn't tout secrets. Only fools do, right? First person narrators have a bad track record for reliability and honesty if they're told well and in character.

Poem is not mine, called "The Abortion" by Anne Sexton. I could have included other poems to head this, but I just fell in love with the last line. I thought about saving it for one of Izayoi's chapters. (I know you're thinking, how would it be appropriate for her…?) But I decided that the way Shiroihana was coming out, unashamed and determined, and that last line, I thought it was right for Shiroihana, not Izayoi.

Disclaimer: Don't own them.

Last Chapter: Shiroihana helped unite the Middle Lands under Koshoshiro and sealed an alliance between the Middle Lands and the Kosetsu with Koshoshiro, all over the course of four years of war. During that time she also began to feel physically and emotionally drawn to him and wanted to marry him. She also experienced several heats. Samidare showed her herbs to stop the heats and, when eaten in larger quantity, the herbs would abort unwanted pups. Sesshomaru returned and mentioned the Dog General and his success, and that he claimed to be one of the Okou, the slaughtered clan that ruled the Tengai. When Shiroihana and Koshoshiro finally signed the treaty of support between them, Shiroihana learned that he had been betrothed to someone else over the winter—but he wanted her as she wanted him. Things got out of hand and the couple ended up physically involved. Shiroihana is pregnant.

* * *

"Somebody who should have been born  
is gone.  
Yes, woman, such logic will lead  
to loss without death. Or say what you meant,  
you coward...this baby that I bleed."

* * *

Shiroihana

I do not like to use ink describing my husband. Many others, artists, writers, and poets have all wasted more than enough ink on him. Over the many centuries there have been many impressive inuyoukai, but of course most have not heard of them. I find it amusing that at least two of the inuyoukai that mortals think they know most about have been involved with me in one way or another. Should I elaborate for you? I married one and birthed the other. What other inuyoukai have you heard of aside from those two? Yet I am not as well known as I should be.

The panther war could not have been won without me. While I worked with Koshoshiro to unite the Middle Lands into fighting the panthers, Inutaisho was making an impressive fuss along the coast in the Tengai. The stories of fanciful writers, the poems and pictures of artists would all show Inutaisho as the one responsible for conquering the panthers. I did not lift a sword in the six years of the war, but the time and thought I spent writing to the lords of the Middle Lands and many of my ideas were instrumental in giving Inutaisho the forces and strength he needed to push the panthers back south where they belonged.

We were already working as one though we did not yet perceive it. I have wished at times that I did not marry the Dog General, but of course this is written with the knowledge of the present. When I first met the great and renowned Dog General, I was as smitten as everyone else. If there were a love song, poem, or story for Inutaisho and I, I'm sure it would involve me sagging and sighing with passion for him from the moment I laid my eyes on him. The truth is that the Dog General was more bewitched by me than I was by him. I suppose that would make a poor subject for a song, however. The great Dog General, overcome with tenderness after the heat of battle. It is not the typical perception that one has of a great warrior.

But those writers, singers, painters, and poets have never seen a true warrior. Certainly they have never seen him shed tears over the birth of a son, or laugh obnoxiously at his own jokes. They have also never seen the great hero seduce a weakling mortal girl to punish his wife in some sort of petty infidelity contest.

But let us not speak of that. It is not worth ink, just as Inutaisho is not worthy of much of the ink spilled for him.

Instead let us consider, how does one become Queen and then destroy all that was given to her by her ancestors? I will tell you. It begins always with death. Death and then rebirth. In my case it took two deaths to change me, to bring down the idea of the Kosetsu and the line of female inheritance.

Two deaths, and one precious birth.

* * *

**From Queen to Queen**

Shiroihana woke in the middle of the night. Her body was not in need of sleep, but Shiroihana often used it to combat her unending loneliness, the haunting quality of the continual silence of Kagetsu palace. She often awoke out of sleep, but usually not from pleasant dreams where she relived memories, moments she had shared with her brother as a pup, or history and calligraphy lessons with her mother, and fighting sessions under her father's watchful eye.

This night, a cool and breezy night in early autumn, Shiroihana had been at peace, content and patient. Sleep had come easily, filled with sweet dreams. Now she had opened her eyes to the darkness of her bedroom and felt moisture on the cool draft, floating in through the half open screens. She rose and ignored the chill, touching the wooden slats of the window, brushing her fingers against the smooth edges of the wood. It was mostly dark outside; the stars were gradually appearing, shining through the blue-gray of the sunset.

Shiroihana closed the window slats and then realized what had woken her. At the edges of her mind she felt an inuyoukai presence, familiar and powerful. It was her mother.

Oddly, Shiroihana did not feel panic or urgency. Dread made her move slowly, with clammy hands and a tight pinch to her lips. She did not call the maids to help her as she changed out of her night robe and into something a little more formal. She left her bedroom soundlessly and knelt before a mirror to adjust her hair. She had kept the clips and pins with their decorative white flowers because they suited her youth and vitality—and because they mislead male minds into misjudging her, underestimating her. Now they made her appear obscenely innocent—and she was _not_.

She did not know how to face her mother. It was impossible to be female and not know that unscrupulous daughters, ruled and seduced by their own lust, were sometimes killed for their transgressions against family honor. But those were often human stories or ancient ones. How did the Queen of the Kosetsu feel about unmarried unions and illegitimate pups?

Shiroihana stared into her face, aware that she was beautiful, stunningly so. Her skin was flushed with inner strength and energy. She was budding, blossoming. Koshoshiro's words repeated in her mind: _You are too old to be unmarried._ She was not meant to wait, and as her womb grew heavier, Shiroihana felt both joy and terror. Joy that life had taken root within her, and that it was Koshoshiro's pup, Koshoshiro's seed. But there was also terror that she was unmarried, that she had not destroyed the pup within her on her own, but instead decided to seek her mother's counsel. She asked herself why she had hesitated, why each day she had gone to the storage room and examined the bag of herbs only to put it away again. The answer was as frightening as her choice to seek her mother's aid.

Shiroihana wanted to defy her clan and Koshoshiro's. She wanted to carry his pup, wanted to _coerce_ Koshoshiro to acknowledge it and marry her. Yet she had not told him of it, unable to trust that the letter would arrive safely and be read by no one but Koshoshiro. Also, only a month had passed. It was still possible that Koshoshiro could annul his betrothal with the other inuyoukai and become her husband.

If there was one being who could make that happen it was Queen Samidare.

With her innocent, youthful but solemn face peering back at her, complete with the childish white flower clips in her long hair, Shiroihana left the dressing room to wait for her mother's arrival. She did not wait atop the long stairway as she had a year ago during the deliberations and unification of the Middle Lands. Though she felt it unwise, Shiroihana took a place in the white audience room with its swirling snowflakes and black outlined trees sitting on the platform where the Queen would have sat to greet her guests. It was a bold move, a strong statement. Shiroihana knew it would outrage Samidare, but her instinct was to be hard and strong, not weak and uncertain.

She was the princess, the heir, and she had committed an error, but part of being Queen was in recovering and bearing through grave mistakes. Samidare would be a harsh judge of her inner character and Samidare was not too old to raise another daughter…

It had happened before. The Queens of the Kosetsu were ruthless, even cold-hearted. Samidare would know why her daughter had summoned her home the very moment she entered the audience room.

She left the door open to the small foyer outside, a dark color, lined in cherry wood. Beyond that she left the doors to the palace, several sets of double doors, wide and yawning. The night air outside glowed distinctly orange, like the light of distant campfires. The air was heavy, filled with fog. It rolled in on banks, differing layers of moisture and thickness. Shiroihana felt her skin itching. The atmosphere outside was filled with ghosts, spirits, and ill-omen.

Yet she remained where she was, waiting for a full half hour until her mother at last appeared, ascending the stairs and frowning deeply as she strode toward the open doors of the Kagetsu palace. Samidare's armor had changed. It had increased in density; Shiroihana could hear the difference in the resonance of the clank with each step her mother took. The shadow that Samidare threw as she walked into the foyer, with the orange light from the stair outside was short but masculine. Her armor was impressive, intimidating.

In the darkness of the foyer, between the light behind Samidare and ahead of her, even Shiroihana could see nothing of her face. Samidare had not yet reached the audience room when Shiroihana bowed and called to her in greeting. "Mother—Great Queen Samidare. Kagetsu palace welcomes its Queen!"

Shiroihana placed her palms flat on the matting to either side of her and nearly touched her forehead to the floor. Her neck was stretched out, her hair falling around her in a solid curtain. She was aware of her own breathing, louder than it should have been. The scent of it returned from the floor, sweet as sugar.

She heard Samidare's boots on the audience room, heard the shift and groan of her armor. Other sounds like inhalations, tiny sniffs, never reached Shiroihana's nose. The silence that passed between Samidare's entry and Shiroihana's greeting lengthened.

Finally, Samidare said, "Shiroihana bows to her Queen but does not know her place."

Shiroihana sat up. Her back had stiffened, aching with tension. She stared into her mother's face and saw that it was dirty, smeared by dirt and grime from travel. She followed her instinct and said, "Mother—you must bathe and relax. You have been journeying long—"

"I was called away, all this time, to find you—" Samidare stopped, letting out a small hiss. Her golden eyes drifted closed, heavy with exhaustion. She did not move or make a sound for several moments. Shiroihana watched her mother dispassionately and with infinite patience, yet her body was solid muscle and her heart hammered, propelled by adrenaline.

Queens had killed mature daughters before, but in those instances there was usually a second daughter or an adopted niece or a sister who could take the deceased heiress's place. Shiroihana was the only daughter of the Kosetsu, and she was old enough to be Queen herself and had already been entrusted with most of her mother's day to day duties.

_I will fight her,_ Shiroihana realized. _If she decides I am to die, I will fight her._ But could she kill her Queen, her mother? Truly?

Samidare moved at last, without opening her eyes she began to untie her sword and loosen her armor. Shiroihana rose to her feet and left the sitting platform, approaching her mother with a slow, deliberate tread. Samidare opened her eyes slowly as Shiroihana neared but otherwise gave no sign and showed no emotion.

Mother and daughter worked together in the icy silence of the room, taking the armor off Samidare's body and setting it respectfully aside, laying each part down, brushing it clean. At last when they had finished, Samidare said, "Sit, Shiroihana."

Shiroihana obeyed, stooping onto her knees awkwardly. Already the motion felt odd, foreign to her. Samidare had told her that one day she would feel confident in her role as Queen, that it would be as familiar and natural as eating, sleeping, or—

Samidare sat in front of her daughter. They were very close with their knees nearly touching. Samidare gazed beyond her daughter's head, past her left ear toward the platform and the inner door to the Kagetsu palace. "Tell me what has happened," she ordered, gently.

"Lord Koshoshiro is betrothed to another in alliance with Nishiyori. It is a meaningless match made to keep peace." Shiroihana turned her head and looked down at her mother's armor, her sword sitting within reach of both inuyoukai women. "He has said there is still hope, but I do not believe him."

One corner of Samidare's lips curled downward. Her eyes crinkled and appeared oddly amused. "And yet you carry his pup!"

Shiroihana lifted her head, sticking her chin out. "I am certain that he was meant to be my husband."

Samidare shook her head. "You are too young to know anything with certainty. No one can understand Fate in its entirety. Even inuyoukai are subject to its power. We are as ants to the universe, Shiroihana."

"An ant does not think," Shiroihana protested. "An ant does not understand or know love—"

"And neither do you," Samidare interrupted, suddenly smiling. It was a rough expression, but not devoid of amusement. Shiroihana rankled under her mother's mirth, scowling and looking away.

"I know at this moment you believe you understand love," Samidare murmured, sobering. "You have come to believe you understand many things, but you have been alone in this palace for so long, Shiroihana, with no one else, that of course you have lost sight of reality. For that, I am to blame."

"You insult me," Shiroihana muttered, glaring. "I have been instrumental in aiding my Queen and my clan, all of the Kosetsu. I have united the Middle Lands under one ruler; I have rallied support far and wide against the panthers. I have endured five years alone in the palace, sitting idle. I am fully adult, Mother. Do not slight me."

Samidare snatched Shiroihana's arm, pulling on her. Shiroihana tugged backward but the suddenness of her mother's attack jarred her. Samidare released her when Shiroihana pulled backward with the most strength, causing Shiroihana to tumble backward. She caught herself, barely, using both palms and gawked at her mother with her mouth open wide and her eyes narrowed in fury.

Samidare's jaw was set in fury equal to her daughter's, yet her eyes were uncreased and her gaze almost pitying. "I am not slighting you, Daughter. You have performed admirably, except for this one thing, and it is a serious matter. You will regret it though you do not now. You are proud and strong, but you are young. You may not be an ant, Shiroihana, because you can think and you can love, but you lack restraint and so do ants. They are tiny, foolhardy beasts who can overcome great obstacles. I see the same stubborn strength inside you."

Shiroihana righted herself, touching her hair self-consciously. Her face was burning, the room felt unbearably hot in spite of the damp draft wafting in through the open doors of the palace and the audience room.

"I return at your behest and find you sitting in the spot of a Queen, but wearing flowers in your hair like a tiny girl!" Samidare paused and smiled closed-lipped at her defiant daughter. "I almost knew what was wrong before I smelled the pup in you. You expected your life to be forfeit, you expected you would need to fight me out of honor, but though you have disappointed me, Shiroihana, it was not unexpected. You have been such a fine heiress; I am thrilled to find you have at least one weakness, and even this error you bear with honor and pride."

Now Shiroihana's blush had faded, paling with shock. It was true, she had expected punishment, but instead she received praise.

"There is only one thing I do not approve of," Samidare said as she leaned forward. "Why did you ask me to come here? I have shown you the herbs. You know what must be done—or am I right in thinking that you have no wish to undo what you have started?"

Unconsciously, Shiroihana reached up as if to stroke the white pelt boa that Koshoshiro had given to her, but her hand met nothing but air. She grasped a lock of her white hair instead and petted it instead, drawing hidden strength. She met her mother's curious gaze and said, "I am determined to marry Lord Koshoshiro. It was my hope that my Queen could engage on my behalf, carrying my desires to Lord Koshoshiro, that he could negate his current betrothal and take his rightful place with me."

Samidare sat back on her haunches, silent for a brief moment, contemplating her daughter's request. Finally she released a long breath and said, "I can bring Lord Koshoshiro word if you wish. I assume that you have not told him in a letter of your condition?"

"I am not a fool," Shiroihana muttered, disgustedly.

"I did not think so. I knew you would be smarter than to trust the messengers. Letters can be intercepted and the most devoted envoy can be killed. I had to ask, however, because pregnancy and emotion can cloud the mind."

"It does not cloud mine," Shiroihana announced. She smiled, feeling the anxiety leaving her. Reflexively, she laid her arms around her waist, over the warmth in her belly.

The motion did not escape Samidare's notice. The sympathy in her eyes rose up again, overflowed. "Shiroihana—do not become attached to the pup. Perhaps I was wrong when I said you did not know love."

Alarm made Shiroihana blink. Her expression blanked and she scooted back a little to bow to her mother. She addressed Samidare formally. "But my Queen has said she would help…"

"I said I would carry a message to Lord Koshoshiro for you, if that is your wish. The world does not hold any male accountable for the spread of his seed, only the female who carries and bears it, but I will not dance to the tune of the rest of the world. The Kosetsu is founded very much on the gift of life, of fertility. It is usually a human belief, but even inuyoukai must breed, and it takes two to create life. He should be told—but the _choice_ is always yours, for it is only your power which gives life to his seed."

"I have already made my _choice,_" Shiroihana whispered, carefully emphasizing the last word.

Samidare's shoulders sank, her eyes closed slowly. "You cannot make _that_ choice until you are Queen, but there is always a right and wrong choice, even when you are Queen. The choice that I spoke of before was in whether it was right or wrong to tell Koshoshiro that he has fathered your pup. He has no power over you, and even if he was your husband, he should have no power over whether you bear a pup he has planted within you. But I am more forgiving than the outside world would be of this error, so I leave you with the chance to tell Koshoshiro of the child. The secret will bind you together or tear you apart; I cannot say which way it will go. It is your choice whether to tell, but as to the child's fate, there is only one being with true power over it and you."

With a jolt, Shiroihana realized what Samidare was saying. "The choice—whether I have the child—that choice is yours."

"There is nothing for you to be surprised about, Shiroihana. There have been Queens who had illegitimate heiresses before, but you are still young and unmarried."

"I am too old to be unmarried," Shiroihana said, quoting Koshoshiro. The bitterness in her voice silenced her. She glanced away from her mother and toward her armor, dull and dingy with the stresses of combat and war and travel. Then she was looking at the purity of the white walls, the blizzard that rubbed out everything but the skeletal shadows of the trees that the painter had set onto the paper screens.

"Very soon you will be married—to an even more suitable mate than Koshoshiro, I should think." Samidare was grinning viciously, showing all of her teeth when Shiroihana turned back to her mother in bafflement. "There is a fine general fighting to avenge the Okou. He has cleared out most of the Tengai lands, pushed the panthers back into the south. With his help and with the armies of the Middle Lands, we will defeat the panthers at last. It will be no more than a year from now I expect."

"The Chinese Dog General?" Shiroihana asked, making a face of disgust. "Brother told me he is a dumb brute."

"Sesshomaru has reason to dislike him, yes. He may not be as fine a match with you as Koshoshiro was at a personal level, Shiroihana, but I believe he is a brilliant physical match."

Shiroihana shifted restlessly, unhappy and itching with dislike at the thought that she would not marry Koshoshiro, that Samidare had come upon some new plan that would divide mother and daughter—and sentence the child within her, Koshoshiro's pup, to death. Though vaguely she had known its chances were bleak all along, she felt that if it died in blood, it would be a personal failure, a show of ineffectiveness. As if by fighting for its life just a little more, Shiroihana could have saved it.

"You do not like what you have heard about him," Samidare observed.

Shiroihana did not reply and did not look at her mother.

"You have not met this general, Shiroihana only heard of him. Did you always know you would like Koshoshiro?"

"Yes," Shiroihana murmured, closing her eyes to hide the intensity of her emotion, though she could hear it in her own voice.

"Your loneliness has tainted your mind," Samidare said, unsympathetically. "It is time for this war to end. Time for you to be married. I was right when I said you do not understand love, but I see that you do _know it._ You have a great and powerful heart, Shiroihana, but it is a weakness as much as a strength. Koshoshiro is beyond you now. Even you know this. You have a bright future before you with intelligent, courageous children. You will accomplish much, but you _cannot_ bear this pup. Surely you see that? The child must be long gone by the time you meet the Dog General. He will please you, I am sure. He is quite a character, a wild boar. You will tame him."

Shiroihana stifled the urge to groan at the thought. She had not opened her eyes and found that she didn't want to. "What is your counsel? Do I tell Lord Koshoshiro or keep it as my secret?"

"I can see you long to bear this pup," Samidare murmured, sadly. "I wish this world were a gentler place. I would grant your wish, but there is no time, and I have already warned you—do not have more children than necessary. Every child that is not your heir increases the danger that—" Samidare hissed to herself, falling silent. "I will not speak it aloud."

Yet they were both thinking it. After a moment of silence Shiroihana said, "Brother is not pleased with the Dog General. Why is this?"

"They are rivals. The Dog General has claimed that he is the last of the Okou. He will take the Tengai. Sesshomaru planned to rule the Tengai and start his own clan there. He has come of age. He adores you, but…"

"What is it?" Shiroihana asked.

Samidare was scowling deeply, disturbed. Her golden eyes had darkened, the pupils expanding. "I fear you do not have the ruthless nature you will need to survive, Shiroihana. I have dark dreams. I know you are courageous and smart, perhaps that will be enough to save you, to save the Kosetsu. But I saw your bravery tonight in facing me, and it is not the stoutness that I believe you will need. You will not be able to fight against those you love, only for them. The daughter I need to become Queen would have had no second thought about extinguishing the pup inside her."

"Sesshomaru has shown no signs of unrest," Shiroihana argued angrily, her lips curling. "You worry for nothing, Mother!"

"What I can see as weakness in my daughter is visible to Sesshomaru as well," Samidare told her, gravely. "When this war is over, when you have flushed this child from your body, I hope you have gained ruthlessness, or have learned to act as if you have. If not you will only have the Dog General's brutishness to shield you from all who would oppose you."

"Enough," Shiroihana snapped. She got to her feet and walked toward the door, leaving Samidare still sitting in the white audience room. She hesitated at the open door, breathing long and slow and deep. "I will be ruthless, Mother. I will learn it, but let us never discuss this again. Sesshomaru will never threaten me as your brothers threatened you." _And I will never kill him as you would want me to. There must be another way._

She left the room with her mother sitting in the center of the whiteness, surrounded by her dirty, blemished armor.

* * *

Samidare, Queen of the Kosetsu, became her daughter's nurse for the next several days. On the morning after Samidare's return to Kagetsu, Shiroihana ate the herbs, foul and gritty with dirt. Only two hours later the first aching, bitter pains wracked her womb. She refused to rest during the miscarriage, though she wore a black and red robe that she stained through with blood. She sweated profusely and felt nauseous for three days as the blood poured out of her. She took countless baths, washing away the blood, but it always returned.

Five days later after the first blood leaked out of her, Shiroihana thought the flow would never end, but at last it stopped very suddenly. Tentatively, she dressed and bathed and ate normally, but when she looked at her reflection, Shiroihana imagined she saw new age hardening her face. She flung away the white flowered clips, tearing the decorative little petals apart with her claws.

Samidare offered her little comfort verbally, but she sat with her daughter, comforting her with her presence, with her small, wan smiles. Shiroihana could hear the unspoken assurance in her mother's long looks, in the warmth and sympathy in her eyes. _This was the right thing to do._

In her outburst of anger on the fifth day, the first of her return to normalcy, Shiroihana reached a decision regarding Koshoshiro. She was thinking of blood, of punishment. She had not been punished by Samidare exactly, but Shiroihana somehow desired the suffering. She grasped some of her mother's wisdom and shared the anxiety over Sesshomaru. _I must learn ruthlessness._ She put the thought of the pup out of her mind, banishing it, burying it though it had never had a body.

_Loss without death._ Shiroihana decided that she _needed_ loss to reshape her heart, to bring out some inner cruelty she had not yet been aware of possessing. It had to be in her blood, just as becoming Queen was in her essence, carried in her loins, passed on through ages of bloodlines and breeding.

So it was that she decided that she would share the secret of the lost child with Koshoshiro. She did not know when he was to be married to the inuyoukai woman that Nishiyori had selected for him, but she made up her mind that she would punish both herself and Koshoshiro for their lack of restraint. She was torn in two over it. Her true emotions were simple when she remembered or dreamed about the event. It was a short, brief snatch of bliss. Yet she saw the child and its loss as her punishment, as well as the failed betrothal that she had so longed for but never achieved. Now, if Koshoshiro suddenly found himself free to marry her, Shiroihana resolved that she would turn him down as ongoing punishment for them both.

And sharing her secret with him had no other purpose other than hurting him. She knew he would never reveal it to another, but also knew that he cared so much for his only child, his little daughter Taikokajin, that he would regret the loss as much or more than she did. She did not think it would push him away, but instead bring him closer to her, always bound to her by the memory of their shared secret, their shared loss.

The message she sent to him through her mother was short and unemotional. She wrote it on a small scrap of paper and had her mother carry it hidden in a secret pocket in her sleeves. On the day her mother left Kagetsu, Shiroihana helped her dress, donning her armor, tying her hair back and securing her boots to her feet.

"I'm sorry I must leave you, Shiroihana," Samidare said. "But I want to be present until the very end of the war. I won't return to Kagetsu before next year." She smiled tightly, with noticeable sadness, and tenderly cupped her daughter's face in her hands, dipping Shiroihana's head down until she could kiss her forehead. "I will write to you of his response."

"Thank you, my Queen," Shiroihana replied, bowing deeply.

"Daughter—I am less your Queen now than your mother. After this war and after you have been married for a few years, you will replace me. In fact I look forward to retirement. You will be a magnificent replacement." Samidare touched Shiroihana's cheek one last time and bid her farewell.

Resplendent in her armor, clanking and enormous as any male warrior of any species of youkai, Samidare walked away, leaving the Kagetsu behind.

She would never return.

* * *

Samidare sent a letter before the first snow, telling Shiroihana cryptically of Koshoshiro's words, his emotions, his loss. Shiroihana read the words several times over before moving onto the rest of the letter. Samidare spent much of her time almost worshipping the Dog General with praise. Shiroihana spilled ink indiscriminately over those portions of the letter, mostly blotting them out with irritation. She was determined not to like or appreciate anything about this "Dog General" with no real name, bloodline, or history.

_I will be ruthless, Mother. I will be ruthless with all of them._ She vowed not to carry another unexpected pup in her womb and walked out on the mountainside at night to search out more of the herbs to replenish what she had lost.

Letters from Sesshomaru were increasingly short. He mostly reported back things from their father, acting as a scribe for Shinkumaru, who had lost an arm in a battle and could no longer write passably. Sesshomaru wrote only sparingly about the Dog General, and what he did write struck Shiroihana as deceptive. She read between the lines, perceiving Sesshomaru's dislike of him and disapproval, as well as his disgust for the plan that Samidare had of betrothing Shiroihana and the Dog General.

The news from the battlefront had begun to change into positive reports. More and more the panthers were retreating, breaking formation, dying in vast numbers. The inuyoukai and other creatures, mortal and immortal alike, had at last reclaimed the lands of their birthright. Yet the fighting was slow to finish. A few skirmishes were still dangerous and bloody, and as they lost numbers, the panthers began to employ deadly guerilla tactics. They did not know the terrain as well as the local youkai of Japan, but the change in strategy lengthened the war an additional year. Shiroihana expected the war to end completely by the spring, but the winter passed and it showed no sign of finishing as she had predicted.

Koshoshiro wrote to her only twice over the winter, reporting that he had married and that his daughter had written her first few words, albeit sloppily. He also spoke cryptically about his sorrow for her, his assurance that he would be her loyal servant in the years to come. He also reported that he had heard from Queen Samidare that she would be betrothed to the Dog General. Much of his letter was filled with support for the match and praise. It would be a wonderful union.

"_Even dragons will shake before Inutaisho!"_

The improper name usage disgusted Shiroihana. _It should be Inu no Taisho._ Yet it was the name that the Dog General had adopted for himself, in spite of its improperness. Sesshomaru called him both names interchangeably while Koshoshiro, having had reports from Nishiyori and being about to join the battle himself with his wedding over, used only the false name _Inutaisho_ to describe the Dog General. She replied asking about his real name, his real heritage, but Koshoshiro did not answer her question. He had left to join the armies of the Middle Lands.

With the need for warriors diminishing a bit, Shinkumaru began sending inuyoukai warriors to meet with Shiroihana. They were more reliable than foxes and often faster too. His chosen warrior was actually an adviser who had come with him to the Kosetsu after his marriage over two hundred years ago to Samidare. Shiroihana had seen this adviser befor,e but not interacted with him much because he had mostly trained or accompanied Sesshomaru and her father. Shiroihana had spent much more time learning from Samidare. Nevertheless she knew of him and recognized him with pleasure when he first came to relay news of the battlefield to her.

His nickname was Daken, Shiroihana had never known his real name. He was lowborn, from her father's ancestral clan to the far north. He kept his hair cropped short, exposing the scars on his neck, bites and slashes. Not all of them had been made in the violence of battle. Some had certainly been left by overeager youkai women in the darkness of a bedroom. Or perhaps under the brightness of a summertime sky.

It was Daken who delivered the gravest news of the panther war to her, just as the heat of summer had arrived.

"You're sure of this?" she asked, forcing an edge into her voice to disguise the tremor of grief.

Daken bowed before her. His cropped hair left his pointed ears sticking out very plainly and gave him an air of silliness that didn't fit his grave mood or the news he carried. Shiroihana could see a few scars crisscrossing his neck where his robe sagged. He was already at the edge of his prime, growing older at perhaps six hundred years. "I wish I could tell you differently, my lady, but I hope you know I would never joke about something like this."

"But Brother and Father are unhurt?" she asked, needing to be sure.

He sat up and nodded solemnly. "I am very sorry to have to bear such horrible news—"

"Hush," Shiroihana ordered. She closed her eyes, allowing herself the moment to consider her mother, no longer the powerful figure of her dreams and memories, but a corpse with sightless eyes, staring into Heaven. _I am Queen now._

"How did it happen?" she asked, barking the question out.

Daken averted his eyes but his lips curled in an odd expression, a mirthless smirk. "It was an ambush. Queen Samidare was walking alone with Lord Sesshomaru, deep in discussion with him. Three panthers emerged. The attack was so swift…"

"Brother is unhurt?"

"Lord Sesshomaru received only minor injuries, Great Lady," Daken replied.

Shiroihana was staring at one of the black inked trees on the audience room's walls. It blurred in her vision, wavering. She shifted, lifting her head and sniffing once, loudly. She tried to silence her heart, already aching, grieving, crying out and flooding. Shiroihana petted the white pelt at her shoulders, shrugging it higher until she could rub her cheek against the plush softness. But even that offered little comfort, managing only to make her remember her mother. _Mother, my Queen. _

Daken was smirking, nervous and uncertain of what to do or say to the new, young Queen who was clearly distraught though she attempted to hide it. He cleared his throat, "Queen Samidare will be remembered for her bravery, her great beauty, her wisdom. Already the humans in the Tengai lands know of her and have heard of her death. They are mourning her, burning their stinky incense and chanting those prayers of theirs."

Shiroihana allowed herself to close her eyes and imagine, for a moment, the melancholy chants of the people as they mourned the passing of the goddess and Queen, Samidare. They could call her _Mother_ symbolically, and give up part of their harvests each year to support her as the source of peace, government, and their own origin, but they had not truly nursed at her breast. The humans had not known her scent after a bath, after a sparring match, and they had never felt her warm breath on their faces as they dropped into the sweet nothings of milk dreams.

They had also never felt her claws, or known the shame of being cuffed by her—or the sympathy and forgiveness in her eyes as she rubbed her daughter's back while she bled out, shedding an impossible child out of her womb.

_Shiroihana, _White Flower of the Kosetsu, who now ruled in place over her mother, _Samidare_ the Summer Rain. Shiroihana repeated the names inwardly, not thinking, but feeling them.

"There is still good news, my lady," Daken said, trying to comfort her.

"Go on," Shiroihana told him, not bothering to open her eyes. The tears were fading, but slowly. She wondered how her mother had controlled her own grief when she had faced the death of her older brother who betrayed the Kosetsu, her father and mother. Samidare had never revealed grief. Surely Samidare had been made of stronger stuff, steel perhaps. She would not have guessed how difficult it was to maintain such strength. Her mother had seemingly achieved it with minimal effort. Shiroihana felt small and inadequate, even with Daken sitting before her patiently, silently pouring out his admiration and loyalty to her.

"Lord Inutaisho has begun leading his own guerilla attacks against the panthers," Daken reported with noticeable glee in his current smirk. Shiroihana opened her eyes slowly and saw that several of his teeth were chipped. "Lord Inutaisho has been raiding their camps. The panthers have a strong sense of smell, my Queen, but they do not use it as much as the inuyoukai. They prefer night fights and the use of their eyes. Lord Inutaisho has taken advantage of this as no one else has thought to do so. He employs coastal bird youkai and tiny creatures, flea youkai, vermin that the panthers would never notice. They report on the panthers' location and he leads the armies in to slaughter them at twilight or dusk when they are disadvantaged by the changing light."

In spite of her resolve not to like or appreciate the Dog General, Shiroihana sat up, intrigued. Sesshomaru had assured her that he was a brute. Unintelligent. And yet these tactics were innovative, clever, and clearly they had made an invaluable difference on the battlefield. _What a shame, _she thought;_ it was not soon enough to save Mother._

"The army has swelled with his methods. Youkai of different breeds and kingdoms, all manner of them, have joined with him." Daken's eyes were alight; his smirk had become a triumphant grin.

"He sounds as if he has bewitched you, Daken," Shiroihana teased, but her heart was hollow, her stomach bitter.

"Queen Shiroihana," he said, addressing her for the first time in such a way. He paused, realizing it and watched her critically, cautiously.

The name stung Shiroihana, though only because of loss. It did not feel inappropriate. She had already been acting as Queen for five years, nearly six. She motioned with one hand for Daken to continue but said nothing to acknowledge her feelings on his terminology.

"The Lady must understand, it is impossible, after years of seeing the ferocity of the panthers go unchallenged, to see the proud inuyoukai falter on their own lands, it is impossible to see Lord Inutaisho and not love him. Lord Shinkumaru has sworn allegiance to him and continued suggesting that he begin writing to Queen Shiroihana directly. I believe very soon the Lady will receive Lord Inutaisho's letters. He is eager to meet with you and discuss the possibility of marriage."

Shiroihana frowned, her mood steadily deteriorating.

Seeing her displeasure, Daken's smirk increased again, blooming into a wide, open smile. "Lady Shiroihana must not fret," he said.

"Don't tease me," she muttered.

"Lord Inutaisho is very handsome. There are few others that can compare. It's rare for such strength, intelligence, and beauty to be packaged together." Though he was supposed to be complimenting the Dog General, whoever he was, Shiroihana felt more that he was describing his own admiration for her rather than allaying her fears.

"Why do you call him _lord?"_ Shiroihana demanded, openly irritated now. "He is not highborn. He is clearly an opportunist thug from China come to take the Tengai as his own. He is not one of the Okou. He has blinded all of you with the prowess of a warrior and nothing more."

"Please forgive me," Daken said, bowing before her, "Great Lady, you have not met him and now is not the time—while you are mourning—for you to decide how you feel about him. Surely Lady Samidare would have advised that you give him a chance…"

Shiroihana was glaring at him venomously, making small flicking motions with one hand, opening and closing the fist, as if fighting with the desire to slash out Daken's throat. "You will address my mother as if she were still living as _Queen._ Do you understand?"

"Yes, Queen Shiroihana," Daken said, bowing and sniggering nervously. He stifled it with a choking sound, afraid that she indeed would cut him down.

"Is there anything else that is pressing?" she asked, her anger deflating immediately.

"No, Great Lady."

"Then I will spend the rest of this day in solitude for the passing of Lady Samidare. Tomorrow we will leave the Kosetsu and meet Father and Brother on the battlefield in the Tengai." Before Daken could agree or protest, Shiroihana was on her feet and sliding the entryway door open. She left the bright white walls, and stepped into the darkened hall beyond. She treaded through the rich wood halls of the palace that had become hers by way of its traditionally female-inherited path.

_If I am now Queen then there is no point staying here._ She could not bear the thought of staying in the palace, alone with nothing but memories and grief. No one would dare tell her what to do any longer. If she refused the advances of the ridiculous Dog General from China, so be it. She heard her mother's voice inside her head: _"White Flower, be strong."_ Shiroihana was already strong, but now she would be ruthless.

* * *

Endnote: Questions answered in this chapter! More on Inutaisho's name. For the sake of this story and my own laziness while typing, those who know him are adopting Inutaisho's own poor Japanese, leaving out the extra word. Much to Shiroihana's ire. Also, note the brief mentioning of strange youkai associated with Inutaisho: fleas, seabirds, random dudes. He is unconventional. I felt that sort of explanation would shed light on his brilliance, his ability to defeat a great foe and be well known for it. Also! For those who read _Return_ and _Runaway,_ you may remember Daken! He is younger here and serves Shiroihana and her father. If you're sharp eyed and a careful reader you would see that Shiroihana and Daken knew each other already in _Return._

Next time: We meet Inupapa himself!

_"Who are you?" the Dog General demanded, growling. His hand had fallen to his hip. Not two but three swords were hanging there. His words were oddly pronounced and he added unnecessary tone changes, as if swallowing some of the words._

_Shiroihana frowned, distracted by his accent and offended at his rudeness. "Swine," she said, baring her teeth. "Have you no respect or decency—or have you just lost your sense of smell?"_

_"You smell as blood," he answered and his brow furrowed. He had used a wrong word for the comparison and seemed to sense it with irritation. His grammar was wrong._


	4. The Queen and the Bastard

A/N: Poem here is Pablo Neruda's, called "There's No Forgetting." I imagine it as Inutaisho's words at the end of the panther demon war. Okay, so I was watching Inuyasha Movie 3 subbed this time (usually I do dubbed because I get sick of reading subs and I'll be honest, I have an English bias. All the Japanese voices sound the same to me. I liked the English actors for IY's mom and dad much better dubbed than in Japanese. I heart it when Inutaisho says, "Izayoi!" after he discovers her dead. Shivers every time down my spine. The Japanese version doesn't give me that.) and I noticed that Inuyasha's facial markings are purple-ish. What? Why purple?? Then I was like, well what color are IT's again? And sure enough, they were blue! So where did purple come from? Eh?

What do the cheek markings even mean? Sess has two per side, but everyone else (Sessmom, IY, and IT) all have one. I know its trivial but…I wonder…

Disclaimer: Don't own them!

Last Chapter: Samidare surprised Shiroihana by being very forgiving with her, but she had to abort the pup of course, genderless and without a body. With Samidare's help Shiroihana sent word to Koshoshiro, though she was rather spiteful about it. She accepted that she will not be able to marry him. Koshoshiro married and went to join the battle at last. Daken reported Queen Samidare's death in the spring/summer of the fifth year of war. Shiroihana is not Queen and her first decision was to go out to the battlefield and meet with her father and brother.

* * *

"If you should ask me where I've been all this time,  
I have to say 'Things happen.'  
I have to dwell on stones darkening the earth,  
on the river ruined in its own duration:  
I know nothing save things the birds have lost,  
the sea I left behind, or my sister's crying.  
Why this abundance of places? Why does day lock  
with day? Why the dark night swilling around  
in our mouths? And why the dead?

* * *

Shiroihana

I have said that it took two deaths to change me into the being I am today. Two deaths to bring about my rebirth. Of course nothing is as simple as that. I was changing throughout the panther war, gaining experience, learning how to behave as Queen. When my mother died, I was ready to take her place. You have likely realized, logically, that my mother's death was the first of the two that I mentioned. After all, how could I have become Queen if my mother had not died? I suppose she may have abdicated and did indeed suggest that she would do so after I had married, but Fate saw fit to take her from me. I have tried to understand why Fate did this at that time and not earlier or later, but we are as ants to Fate. No explanation is required, or possible, even for an inuyoukai Queen.

Perhaps that strikes you as humble. Think little of it; I am merely repeating popular phrases. Popular and meaningless. Inutaisho was like that as well, popular, meaningless, and similar to Fate. He felt no need to give explanations, to verify his presence or his actions. Uncouth fool.

The poets and singers say the Dog General came to save the islands from the frightful grip of the panther demons. They say he arrived out of Heaven or sprang from Hell. In reality Inutaisho came from China, the mainland. He had spent two centuries there. He spoke for many years with an accent and a strange lilt in his voice that made him sound like a human boy gargling. When I met him, Inutaisho was older than me by over a century. He was over three hundred years old. Because I do not expect you to know what that means, I will tell you that at three hundred an inuyoukai is in his prime, as strong as he will ever be. By that age most of us are married and concerned with producing children, furthering a bloodline. Inutaisho had never been married, but he was—experienced.

He was not highborn. He claimed that he was of a certain clan, the Okou of the Tengai, but in truth they had never acknowledged him. There are some details that I should not tell, that I am bound to hide and take to my grave the same way that Inutaisho did. Let me simply record here that Inutaisho was born in the Tengai, more than a hundred years before I was born in Kagetsu palace in the Kosetsu. He was legitimately from these islands, as I was. He was not truly Chinese, not born on the mainland. His other secrets will remain secrets. I keep them not for him, but for my son. If they were to be widely known, my son would suffer humiliation. Not that they reduce my son in any way—he is greater than his ancestors and makes his own future and fuels his own power as much as any of us do beyond the confines of Fate. Yet I understand that sons take a certain concern over their fathers and the Dog General's infidelity has already shamed and tainted my son enough. I will not add to it by expressing unimportant details of the Dog General's past. I will not harm my son like that.

I have strayed from the subject I began writing on, but I will correct it now. There were two deaths required to change me. The first was of course my mother, which brought me to take my place as Queen of the Kosetsu. The other two events will be unclear to you, but to me they are circular, one and the same. A death and a rebirth. They happened together in the same year, no coincidence. But it was years after my marriage to Inutaisho that the second death and the birth—rebirth—at last transformed me.

I have already recorded his name, but I do not speak of one of them. _Otoutosan._

_

* * *

  
_

**The Queen and the Bastard**

Daken led Shiroihana to the battlefield, through the mountains, still crusted with old winter snow, and the deep pine forests that whispered as if with awe at their passing. Shiroihana had donned a youth's armor over her kimono and tied back her hair. She had taken a simple blade with no discernible name from the palace's armory. It was all that was left for her. Shinkumaru and Sesshomaru and Samidare had taken everything else with them to battle.

Shiroihana had not had armor forged for herself before the war. The armor she wore as she traveled with Daken was ill-fitting, but the only suitable match in the armory for her lean, tall frame. The weight of the sword at her hip and the clanking of the armor distracted and irritated Shiroihana at first, but she adjusted swiftly and tuned them all out.

The road was littered with signs of destruction, but the world was quiet, seemingly at peace. And empty. Trees had been cracked and shattered, knocked over and splintered as if enormous dragons had been at violent, sloppy play. The ground was hewn and uprooted. Massive boulders blocked long established paths, forcing travelers to mat down the grasses alongside the road. They did not halt their travel day or night, plunging onward unceasingly.

Daken often tried to warn Shiroihana, insisting that she should have stayed in the palace. She had no heiress, no pups at all. If she died, there was only Sesshomaru to replace her, and such a disaster had never before fallen on the Kosetsu—nor could it be allowed to happen. If Sesshomaru ruled the Kosetsu certainly he would not want to pass the lands on to a daughter…

Shiroihana did not share these misgivings. Sesshomaru surely shared some pride in the uniqueness of the female-inheritance. He could face other inuyoukai from all over the world, all through the Japanese islands, and declare that he served a higher power, the female power, the source of life and fertility, not destruction and chaos.

_I will educate him,_ she thought. _I will make him see that we must hold the tradition. He must hold it. He will be my heir. If I should die childless, Sesshomaru will rule and marry and pass on the Kosetsu to a daughter, not a son._

It would work, it had to. None of the Queens had ever tried to enlighten their male kin before that she knew of. It was no wonder the men rebelled so often. They were abused, cast aside, when all the rest of the world viewed them as superior. They were slighted, insulted. _I will change this._

There was a brief moment when they ran into trouble, around dawn on the third day of travel. The forest was uprooted, burned out and blasted. Daken was several hundred yards ahead of her, running in a zigzag pattern, his hand constantly at his waist, lingering on the hilt of his sword.

The wind changed, sending a small waft into Shiroihana's face. She stopped and drew her sword, listening and breathing shallowly, trying to pick out the scent that had alarmed her. It was rank, foul, and wet. It had been raining in these hills not long before their arrival. The air was still, heavy.

"Daken," Shiroihana called.

He halted, whipping around and drawing his sword immediately. It glowed, cutting through the moist air. "My lady?"

"Something's nearby…"

A yowling filled the massive emptiness of the sky. From a hollow to Shiroihana's left two panthers raced out with their claws and teeth bared. For a moment Shiroihana stared at them both as they charged at her, startled. She had been sheltered from true fighting, though she had trained extensively. She had never drawn fatal blood with a sword. It was a shame that her first time would be with a blade that had no name, no true powers.

Their eyes were green, bright as midsummer leaves. Shiroihana stabbed at the nearest when he leapt at her, ready to slash out her throat. She caught him in the shoulder, knocking him out of the air. He yowled, shrieking. Blood spurted, salty and metallic.

Daken cut down the other, jabbing into the panther's back and out his front. The wound gushed. Blood splattered onto Shiroihana's face, her armor, her kimono.

The cat that Shiroihana had attacked was not yet dead. His arm had nearly been severed from his shoulder by her blow with the sword. Blood soaked the ground, thick and viscous. He bared his teeth viciously. "Damned dog!" the cat spat at them both.

"They hoped to ambush us like cowards from behind, but my Queen sniffed them out," Daken said, praising her. He moved to make the final strike on the cat, but Shiroihana motioned him back. She flexed her wrists and felt her arm heat up. Spectral energy began to radiate from her fingers. It lengthened, extending to the earth where it coiled. It was a green-glowing whip.

"I had hoped to be able to test this weapon out, but doubted I would have the chance," she murmured, smiling with satisfaction.

The cat hissed and tried to rise to his feet, to jump away, but he had lost too much blood. Swift movement was impossible for him now and his nearly severed arm hung limp, dangling like a lure at the end of a fisherman's line.

"This is for my mother," Shiroihana snarled. She let the whip fly with a jerk of her hand. It flashed out, striking the panther in the face, catching him in the eye. He screamed with agony, writhing. The next flick coiled like a hungry snake around his neck and when Shiroihana drew it tight, the whip burned into him, silencing the cat. A moment later his head fell to the ground, separated from his body.

Shiroihana wriggled her fingers and the spectral whip vanished.

Daken bowed to her, deeply, laying his open palms on the muddy, grimy ground of the destroyed road. "Queen Shiroihana is powerful indeed," he murmured, awed.

Only poisonous inuyoukai could use the energy whip. Shiroihana had been trained with it before, but never used it to kill. She sheathed her sword after flicking the blood from the blade and then touched her forehead, tracing the crescent moon of the Kosetsu, the mark that her mother had passed onto her. The mark of the heiress and of poison.

By nightfall they arrived where the armies of the Middle Lands had camped. They were spread out through the ruined forest. Tents had been erected in some spots, but many of the youkai did not bother with creature comforts. They bedded on the ground, rain, sleet, snow or sunshine. Night or day. Banners waved, flapping and clapping in a thin breeze. Shiroihana picked out the Kosetsu's banner, a dull brown with creamy white of clouds.

Youkai bowed as she passed, though Shiroihana doubted they knew her at least by name. They were more likely reacting to her aura or her scent, or just her gender. Daken led her to one large tent and lifted the flap, admitting her inside. The darkness was complete, deep, but Shiroihana's nose told her where Daken had brought her. There was a smell of dust, of ash—and something else. Daken slipped in behind her and lit a small candle, throwing a weak, wavering orange light on the scene.

There was a table, large enough to be used as a mount for a futon, in fact Shiroihana suspected that it had been used that way. On it items were assembled with great care. A folded kimono, cleaned boots, armor, other belongings. In the center was a decorative urn made of a tough earthenware. Shiroihana did not need to read the characters to know what they said and whose ashes were inside.

She crossed to the table and laid her hands over the urn. It was chilled and smooth, of a fine but hurried make. She did not cry to see her mother's things or her urn, but her throat ached. Her chest was tight. How bizarre it was to be with her mother and yet unable to speak with her, and unable to sense her aura. Even her scent was faint on her possessions. Shiroihana closed her eyes, letting her hands rove over the armor, feeling the prick of the cold metal, then the smoothness of Samidare's kimono—with her scent still engraved into the fabric. The loss of her unborn child had involved more blood, but this was true death, true loss. Samidare had nursed Shiroihana, carried her as a hapless infant, nurtured her where she rested unborn in her womb nearly two hundred and fifteen years ago…

She was so absorbed by the objects, by what little remained of her mother's essence, that Shiroihana did not hear or feel the presence of the inuyoukai men approaching. When their booted feet crunched on the muddy dirt and the flap on the tent rustled, Shiroihana released the urn and turned, startled, facing them.

The orange light of fires and torches outside was dim, throwing a backlight on the inuyoukai men. For a moment Shiroihana smelled nothing but the damp earth, and then their scents and auras reached her, strong and overwhelming. She stiffened and squinted, trying to make out their faces.

"You," one of them called with a deep, powerful voice, "light the brazier." He was speaking to Daken. The inuyoukai moved, still holding the small candle sheltered by one hand. He moved behind the table with Samidare's urn, cautious, careful not to touch it or knock anything over. Shiroihana watched him out of the corner of her eye. A moment later the tent came alive with bright light and a scent of smoke and charcoal.

Three men had entered the tent, all of them tall and proud. Shiroihana recognized her father and brother with a jolt, but not the inuyoukai who had first entered and spoken to Daken. His armor covered his shoulders, making him look broad and wide, more so even than Sesshomaru. His skin was darker than her brother or her father's, tanned by the sun. Dirt and grit were smeared over one cheek, and mud spatters had darkened his bright hair. Shiroihana realized that his eyes were an astonishing shade of amber, very similar to her own.

She blinked, baffled by his appearance. _Are we related?_ Over his cheeks, in the flickering light, she made out a single slash, jagged like a wound, colored a rich blue. Memory jumped inside Shiroihana. She saw for a microsecond nearly six years ago, the day of her betrothal, the face of her young and puny husband to be, Machitekishi of the Okou. The same coloration of features, the marks on his cheeks of a highborn inuyoukai, jagged and blue, the brightness of gold in his eyes.

He really was one of the Okou. And with that epiphany, Shiroihana knew who she was staring at. _The Dog General._

"Who are you?" the Dog General demanded, growling. His hand had fallen to his hip. Not two but three swords were hanging there. His words were oddly pronounced and he added unnecessary tone changes, as if swallowing some of the words.

Shiroihana frowned, distracted by his accent and offended at his rudeness. "Swine," she said, baring her teeth. "Have you no respect or decency—or have you just lost your sense of smell?"

"You smell as blood," he answered and his brow furrowed. He had used a wrong word for the comparison and seemed to sense it with irritation. His grammar was incorrect.

"Lord Inutaisho," Shinkumaru spoke up, stepping forward. "This is my daughter."

Inutaisho sniffed loudly, wrinkling his nose for a moment. His eyes moved over Shiroihana's form critically and then relaxed. He bowed slightly from the waist up. "Apologies," he murmured.

"Get out," Shiroihana ordered him, sticking her nose in the air. His arrogance, his audacity, rankled her beyond reason. That he would be so short, so rude to her without provocation and without kindly asking her name or working harder to uncover it with his nose…And all of this in the tent that her mother's remains had been housed in no less! Who else would have been inside, a young inuyoukai woman with the mark of the crescent moon, exactly like Samidare? Who else?

"Queen Samidare's remains will not be touched," Inutaisho told her, ignoring her order for him to leave. He moved to the side, deeper into the tent, allowing Shinkumaru and Sesshomaru to enter fully. "She is as a goddess. You cannot move her yet."

His language was odd, Shiroihana worked hard to ignore it. She faced her brother and father with relief. "Father—Sesshomaru…"

Shinkumaru bowed to her, but Sesshomaru only nodded, staying closer to the opening to the tent. He was brooding and silent. Shiroihana watched him and thought she perceived the pinch of his lips and the angry set of his jaw as reactions to Inutaisho's offensive behavior to her.

"Daughter—we did not expect you. When we found someone, not a man, inside this tent—forgive us, we assumed you were a kitsune thief," Shinkumaru explained. He reached out to her, as if to touch her face or embrace her, as if he doubted his own eyes and assumed that she was part of his imagination.

For the first time, Shiroihana realized that he had only one arm. The other sleeve, the right one, dangled, empty and useless. As she took in her father, she saw how he had aged though he was not much over five hundred or so. His blue-green eyes seemed to have darkened with despair and exhaustion. She saw the whiteness of a bandage at his neck.

"You are wounded," Shiroihana observed. The note of sadness in her voice was impossible not to notice.

"Better me than either of my children," Shinkumaru told her, sternly. "I wish that it was my urn on that table, not hers." He sighed and then, with urgency, said, "You should not be here," he stammered and seemingly realized that she was not merely princess and daughter to him anymore, but Queen as well. "You are Queen now; you cannot risk yourself by being in danger…"

"The war is almost over," Shiroihana said, dismissively. "My place is here."

Sesshomaru called out to her, "Sister—I for one am pleased to see you. There has been much talk of you by our honorable mother before her regrettable death. There have been rash decisions made without consulting you."

"Mind yourself, Sesshomaru," Shinkumaru snapped, glaring over the shoulder with the missing arm. He faced Shiroihana and began to bow again. "Daughter, there is much to talk about, but I had hoped to discuss it in the comfort of Kagetsu palace."

Inutaisho spoke abruptly, grinning. "I cannot wait to see it." When Shiroihana glared at him, dripping with malice and disgust, Inutaisho's grin shrank, but only slightly. He nodded at Shiroihana but said, "Lord Shinkumaru, I for one have assurance…" He stopped and rephrased the sentence in better, more focused Japanese, "I am certain that your daughter is safe here. She will be under the greatest protection. No cat will molest her."

"You will address me as Queen," Shiroihana growled, turning her back on her father.

Inutaisho nodded but failed to appear disgruntled or offended as she had expected he would. Instead his golden eyes glowed, lingering on her face, and then shifting over her armor appreciatively. "Queen," he said. "Apologies. My languages cross. I have only been here for a few years."

_You should go back where you came from,_ Shiroihana thought, but could not bring herself to say it aloud. There was something pleasant about him that was difficult to ignore. His physical presence was impressive, Shiroihana wondered what he looked like outside of his armor and freshly bathed. He was handsome, as Daken had told her, but the two hundred years he had spent away had affected him. Shiroihana suspected that he was still trying to reacclimatize to Japan—if he had truly been born there to begin with.

"Please, Daughter," Shinkumaru said, sounding exasperated. "Come with us, rest. We will draw water for a bath. It will not equal the splendor of Kagetsu, and it will barely be warm, but it will do you well."

"What of Mother's things?" Shiroihana asked, her voice hoarse. Grief, from nowhere, had descended on her in the wake of her rage and indignation.

"Mother is to be honored in a ceremony," Sesshomaru told her. "Sister does not know that Queen Samidare was beloved as a General. Lord Inutaisho was her second in command." Sesshomaru did not hide his bitterness over this information very well. He met Shiroihana's eye and knowledge leapt between them. _Lord Inutaisho over her own son._ Shiroihana frowned, disturbed. It was no wonder that Samidare had worried over Sesshomaru's loyalty when she herself had helped fuel his negative emotions. _I will right them, _Shiroihana thought.

She followed Shinkumaru to another tent, much larger than the first. It had multiple sections partitioned off with cloth walls. The small space that Shinkumaru left her in was his own. Shiroihana smelled her father's unique aroma over the blankets, the fabric walls, the thin futon mattress, the clothing folded atop it, and the small table where he had ink and paper and maps all stored. She sat on the futon and sighed, imagining his suffering as he recovered from the loss of his arm.

She had only been alone for a few minutes when a shadow fell over the tent and she scented and felt the presence of her brother. "Sesshomaru," she called.

He ducked through the entrance. His body was massive, powerful. Shiroihana rose from the futon and went to embrace him on instinct, happy to see him and eager to reconnect, but Sesshomaru made a small gesture to stop her. "I came to speak with my Queen as an adviser. I was not free to do so in my letters. It did not seem right to disagree with Mother, but now…"

"What is it?" Shiroihana asked, wary but open.

"Our honorable Mother had plans to betroth you to the Dog General. I disagreed with her decision, but she would not listen to my reasoning. She did not value the opinion of anyone but our Father." Sesshomaru was stiff and grim. He was spoiling for a fight, though with who Shiroihana was not sure yet.

"I am Queen now," Shiroihana said. "I will decide who I will marry."

Sesshomaru lifted his head, smiling at her now. "I thought as much, Sister."

"Tell me, why are you opposed to such an alliance?" Shiroihana asked, stepping back to sit on the futon awkwardly. Her legs, the bottoms of her hakama—she was dressed in men's garb—were splattered with blood and mud. She did not want to get her father's bed filthy with it.

Sesshomaru stooped and untied his boots quickly to come inside the tent fully. The action flustered and irritated him. By the time he sat down before her he was nearly growling with impatience. "We have little time. May I be frank, Queen?"

Shiroihana nodded; impressed that he had not addressed her as his sister, but as his monarch. _He respects me. I will do right by him._

"The Dog General is a fine warrior," Sesshomaru began, murmuring quietly, "but his claim to be the heir of the Okou is unsubstantiated. He is beneath you. Mother accepted his claims on the Tengai as one of the Okou quickly because she had no other choice and he is very strong. He has been very helpful in the battles with the panthers, but he is not right for my sister. He is not right to be the next mate of the Queen, or the father of its next sons and daughters. He has no bloodline. He is lowborn."

"I would agree with you," Shiroihana said, speaking with reluctant slowness, "but he has the markings of a highborn inuyoukai. Do you remember Machitekishi?"

Sesshomaru's grimness faded and he chuckled, baring his sharp white teeth. "Sister's pathetic betrothed from the Tengai? Yes, I remember him."

"This General looks a lot like him, except—"

"Handsome, strong, brave," Sesshomaru finished for her, sneering. "Yes, I have heard it all before from Father and from our honorable Mother." He growled, low and quiet. "I do not believe he is legitimate. I believe he is an opportunist. He is not worthy of you."

"I will decide that for myself," Shiroihana said, lightly, careful not to reprimand him. "I will speak to him myself. Brother—I wonder if you are angry with the match less for my sake and my honor than out of concern for yours."

"He has no right to the Tengai lands!" Sesshomaru hissed in anger. He did not attempt to defend himself from her accusation. Personal ambitions certainly influenced his opinion and he was not about to try and deceive her so ridiculously.

"I understand. You may be correct in that, but I believe there is some truth in his claims to be one of the Okou. I am not eager to marry him." She dropped her voice into a whisper and leaned closer to her brother, conspiring. "I had set my highest hopes on Lord Koshoshiro."

"He is here, Sister," Sesshomaru told her. "He is the general of the armies just on the other side of the ridge. They will go on a raid tomorrow." His expression was hopeful, pleasant.

Shiroihana turned her attention toward some folded robes on her father's bed next to her. "Lord Koshoshiro has recently been married. There will be no marriage between us."

"My Queen should have what she wants, what she deserves," Sesshomaru whispered.

Shiroihana shook her head, thinking with coldness and calculation, of joining the Tengai and the Kosetsu, lands that lay side by side. If the Dog General had not existed they could have taken the lands for themselves with no hesitation, but if they fought over the Dog General's legitimacy as an heir to it it could bring about a war. Shiroihana did not want to marry the Dog General, but she wanted a war with him even less. With this logic, she conceded, "The Dog General is not a bad match."

"You do not want it, I can see it, I can hear it."

Shiroihana sighed. "I am too old to be unmarried." It was becoming her mantra.

"Inutaisho is not right for you, Sister." Sesshomaru leaned close, barely breathing his next words. "He is free with women. He would not be faithful to you."

Scowling, Shiroihana muttered, "Faithfulness is not a necessity." Indeed, the double-standard was everywhere. Wives who expected their husbands to be completely faithful were doomed to disappointment and despair. Shiroihana did not idealize perfect love, but it did disturb her to hear her brother's report. Among highborn inuyoukai, males were generally faithful as a matter of honor and self-restraint. Females were expected to be faithful for the same reasons, but punishment was less strict than in human societies. Humans could not smell the father of a child, so husbands and male lovers had to be very watchful of their women to ensure that when a child was born to her it was his and not someone else's. A man would not want to waste his efforts and time on a child who was not his. Inuyoukai did not have this problem. An unfaithful wife carrying a child not sired by her husband would be found out as soon as the child developed a scent all of its own, a mix of mother and real father.

Such children were doomed, just as Shiroihana's had been.

"My Queen deserves a husband of higher moral fiber," Sesshomaru insisted. He was right there. An inuyoukai who could not control himself sexually was usually lowborn. He had not been raised morally or with any value on restraint. It made for a dangerous, irresponsible mix when he jumped social levels, marrying up. A wife like Shiroihana would expect him to behave better. Also, among the lowest inuyoukai, scandalous affairs and bastard children could happen all the time without incident or importance because there was no inheritance to worry about. But if Shinkumaru for instance had been unfaithful enough to sire a bastard child on some other inuyoukai woman, that child could have risen to challenge Samidare's offspring, Sesshomaru and Shiroihana. Bastard children could threaten inheritance, lands, and lives.

Yet Sesshomaru was biased. Shiroihana decided to call him on it, gently.

"Are you sure you have not incorrectly judged him? You're jealous of him, Sesshomaru. I would be blind not to see it, and surely Mother saw it as well, that is why she disregarded what you had to say."

"I will not sit by idly while land that should be ours is taken away!" Sesshomaru snarled, baring his teeth.

"You are ambitious," Shiroihana murmured, nodding. "You do not need to hide it from me, Brother. We will have no secrets. We must do what is right for the Kosetsu. Don't you see that a war with this General would be a bad idea? Yet that does not mean your ambitions must die." She sat forward and laid her hands over the broad, flat curve of her brother's armor-plated chest. Her fingers were thin and narrow, fitting between the small bumps and spikes of metal that would deflect arrows, claws, and swords.

"My Queen is wise," Sesshomaru whispered. "But I cannot see her path."

"I will find land for you. This war will have left emptied lands in need of leadership. I will give you a province to rule, to begin your own clan. But there is one thing I wish to ask of you," Shiroihana said.

Sesshomaru placed a hand over hers. It was hot but not clammy or moist. He waited for her to go on.

"You must swear to be loyal to me, to all of my decisions, especially this one: If I die with no heiress, you are my replacement. You will keep my husband from taking power, whoever he is, or my sons if I have them. You will rule the Kosetsu, but only until you have a daughter to take your place. You can only pass on the Kosetsu to a daughter."

Sesshomaru shook his head, his eyes fierce. "I cannot be the Queen's heir. The Kosetsu must always pass to its daughters."

"Why must the Kosetsu's sons be completely ignored? Why should your daughters be privileged over mine, especially if I have none?" Shiroihana pressed on. "Swear it."

Sesshomaru backed away from her and prostrated himself. "I swear it, my Queen—Honored Sister."

* * *

She bathed a half an hour later in a small wooden hut, a makeshift bathhouse that smelled of mold and mildew because it was continually wet with the warriors who used it daily. The tub was large enough to accommodate ten or more youkai warriors of various sizes, but it could fit twice that many human men. Shinkumaru and Sesshomaru stood watch outside the hut while Shiroihana washed her face and hair and scrubbed her ankles. She donned male clothing again, and had a fabric-based armor donated to her that had previously been worn by a fox woman. It stank heavily of female kitsune sweat.

Although she was slightly fatigued, Shiroihana sensed that her father fully intended to keep her up all night talking. Already she could guess just what about. Amidst the hubbub of the army camp, Shiroihana could sense the powerful inuyoukai that she had first felt earlier: the Dog General. He was lingering about, never far away. At times during her bath, she even imagined she heard his voice giving orders or asking questions.

After the bath and dressing, Shinkumaru and Sesshomaru escorted her back to the tent where Samidare's ashes and possessions had been stored in a position of honor. They pinned the tent flap open and all three went inside to kneel one by one before Samidare's urn, offering their final respects. Others had come and gone before them, and more were waiting. Shiroihana could smell the ash and see bits of it sprinkled over the table, over Samidare's things as well. Many of the warriors had taken tiny amounts of the ashes as good luck tokens. Tiny remembrances.

When they left Shinkumaru said, "Queen Shiroihana must meet with Lord Inutaisho before she retires or leaves us."

"I'm not leaving," Shiroihana snapped. "I won't spend any more time alone in that palace."

"Then you must come and discuss staying here with Lord Inutaisho!" Shinkumaru insisted.

Reluctantly, Shiroihana followed her father, with her brother tailing behind, into a different section of the camp, on high ground. It was relatively small, not the partitioned, massive place where her father had apparently stayed. The inside was crowded with possessions. Boxes with bizarre characters, patterns, and images. A massive rug ran underneath Shiroihana's feet, intricately woven with detailed geometric patterns. It was very different from the tatami mats that Shiroihana had seen everywhere else. Another rug ran along the back of the tent, separating the main space of the tent from a futon. Decorative braziers burned and a perfume filed the air, smoking from some lit incense.

Shiroihana shielded her nose, cringing at the intenseness of the incense. "How can any inuyoukai live _here?_" she growled.

The rug that had been strung up across the back of the tent rippled and shifted. Inutaisho stepped out from it with a hard grin on his lips. "Queen Shiroihana," he said, "Perhaps you enjoy blood and war smells, but I know there is no better cure than the human incense burned on the mainland."

Shinkumaru, who had stepped in after his daughter, dropped into a bow. "Lord Inutaisho."

Sesshomaru had not entered the tent, but Shiroihana heard her brother snort and snuffle outside, apparently repelled by the strong odor. Shiroihana thought with longing of the open night air outside. Her eyes roved over the strange wooden boxes that hemmed in and surrounded them, taking up every corner and wall of the tent. At last her eyes fell on a small table, low to the ground in the style of the Japanese islands. It was made of paulownia wood and stained red brown but painted in a white ink with characters and an intricate geometric pattern. Sitting atop the attractive little table was a small vial made of rich, white porcelain. On the vial a summer scene had been painted with trees wearing their full greenery and a doe grazing in a meadow with her fawn. Around the lip, below the small porcelain cap, characters had been painted in black ink. It read _Queen Samidare of the Kosetsu._

Although Shiroihana could not smell it over the overpowering musk of incense, she realized that Inutaisho had taken a small amount of her mother's ashes. This was normally a tradition reserved only for the closest family and friends of the deceased.

Shiroihana glared at Inutaisho, enraged. "You have some of my mother's ashes."

Inutaisho glanced at the table with the porcelain vial and shrugged dismissively. "Queen Samidare was unforgettable."

"You have no right…" Shiroihana sputtered.

"Daughter, Queen Samidare and Lord Inutaisho were close allies," Shinkumaru said, explaining. "Please, sit, there is much to discuss."

Inutaisho stepped onto the rug and sat close to Shinkumaru, then stared at Shiroihana expectantly. Slowly, giving in, Shiroihana moved forward, closer to Inutaisho than her father was, and sat.

"Apologies," Inutaisho said, motioning with both clawed hands to the boxes around him. "My belongings leave no room."

"No need to apologize," Shinkumaru murmured. "Lord Inutaisho, I felt it was vital that my daughter come to speak with you. Her first impression of you was not as any of us would have liked. With Queen Samidare's most unfortunate death I feel obligated to continue onward with her plans for an alliance between our lands and our clans."

Shiroihana said nothing, only gazed on Inutaisho's collection, wondering what was inside so many boxes. Her spine was tense, her body hot. Something within her sensed demonic auras surrounding her, ancient voices and the undead calling out to her. The Kosetsu had had dealings with the ghosts of the dead, with the underworld itself before. This tradition had left Shiroihana open to it, sensitive to it. Like many past Queens, she could become a medium if she chose to do so. Samidare hadn't been very interested in it, but her mother, Shiroihana's grandmother, had.

"Now that my daughter is here with us, unexpected as it was, I hope to include her in our deliberations."

Inutaisho was watching Shiroihana, and when the young queen noticed, she blinked, jolted back into the conversation which she had been studiously ignoring. Inutaisho spoke without removing his gaze from her face. "Lord Shinkumaru—this is no place for a lady as fine as Shiroihana." He was concentrating very carefully on speaking correctly and reducing his accent.

Shiroihana interjected, "You are to address me as Queen, whether there is an alliance or not. I will speak for myself here, Father," she announced, scolding him.

Shinkumaru bowed at her side, but his voice was gruff, taking offense. "Yes, my Queen."

"Yes, Queen," Inutaisho echoed, but with the wrong intonation, and his eyes did not leave Shiroihana's face but stayed firmly locked on her eyes. His lips were smiling, tight-lipped. His expression was difficult to read, unusual and incorrect like his language. Shiroihana wanted to throttle him.

She had had no designs on the meeting between them, only a desire to evade it if at all possible. Yet now that she was here, Shiroihana's conversation with Sesshomaru lingered in her mind, niggling, impossible to set aside. She shifted in her spot and threw back her shoulders, assuming a haughty, overconfident air. "Before I speak any further to you—" she did not call him _lord_ and did not use the improper name that he had taken for himself, "—Dog General, you must realize that no one has consulted me on the conditions of any alliance with you. As such, I am not currently willing to simply begin where my honorable mother left off."

"Daughter," Shinkumaru murmured unhappily.

"I am your Queen," Shiroihana reiterated icily. She had not stopped staring at Inutaisho, challenging him with her eyes, unwilling to turn away before he did. He would break before her. He was deceiving her, passing himself off as one of the Okou, but in spite of his scent, his appearance, and his markings, Shiroihana did not believe it.

"Apologies," Inutaisho said, suddenly smiling, chuckling unabashedly. "The Queen's words confuse me."

Shiroihana's eyes narrowed distastefully. She shifted in her spot again and cleared her throat. When she spoke next it was in a language that Shinkumaru and Sesshomaru listening outside did not know. Her words rose and fell, rolling over lips and then back down her throat. They were like caps on a cresting wave, rising and dropping, choppy waters.

Inutaisho's face changed as Shiroihana spoke in this language. The humor of before vanished, stiffening into a hard, businesslike mask. His golden eyes burned with a fierce, intimidating intelligence. Then, as suddenly as Inutaisho's countenance had changed, it realigned, drooping and tightening up with the same calm, gentle mirth.

Shiroihana had not missed this flicker. She had thought Inutaisho simple, but now she saw that he was layered, like robes piled over one another, each obscuring the one before. It was impossible to tell what lay beneath. Every intelligent, highborn inuyoukai was capable of such deliberate masking, but usually they conducted themselves formally, openly reserved and cautious, unburdening themselves only to mates, family, and occasionally close allies. Inutaisho was not like that. Inutaisho perplexed Shiroihana, intrigued her, enraged her, and threatened her all in that tiny flicker of his face.

It was perplexing because she had not expected it, intriguing because it hinted at a great level of intelligence and thought, and enraged her that he should be deceptive and arrogant. She perceived arrogance in him very clearly, though he had deliberately tried to appear nonthreatening and even dumb. Had he really been struggling with the language? Or was he simply taking amusement in frustrating her? He had underestimated her, been looking down on her the same way Shiroihana might have sneered down at a spider trying to crawl up her boot. Now that he realized she was a worthy opponent, Inutaisho had slipped slightly, revealed his act.

But what exactly was false? And what was truth? That was the threat in Inutaisho. She did not know him, but he knew her. In fact she felt as if she were already stripped and lying on a futon before him on their marriage bed. She was vulnerable before him.

How had Samidare thought that Inutaisho would be a good match for Shiroihana, for the Kosetsu? Physically he was an excellent specimen—but this was a man that could usurp her, could control her. Every Queen needed to choose a mate to marry and father her children—but that husband needed to be subdued, controlled, tamed. Samidare had said, _"He is quite a character, a wild boar. You will tame him."_ Shiroihana did not want to tame him, only to have him safely gutted and mounted on the wall.

All of this Shiroihana grasped in nanoseconds as she spoke in Chinese. Inutaisho's mask had slipped when he realized that his opponent, a mere woman even if she was a Queen, had mastered Chinese. There was nothing to keep them from understanding one another to the fullest. He could not hide in a culture and language barrier.

In Chinese, Shiroihana said, _"I have no intention of marrying you at this moment. That will not change until we have discussed an alliance and the terms of marriage in great detail. And that will not happen until you tell me who you really are and where you come from." _When Inutaisho was silent for a moment, revealing a little of his continued astonishment in his parted lips, Shiroihana added, _"You have enchanted my father and before him Mother. I will not be as easy. You cannot cow me with your strength or prowess as a warrior. Do you understand me?"_

Inutaisho's gaze jumped to Shinkumaru, probably seeking a reaction to Shiroihana's words, but there was none. Shinkumaru and Sesshomaru had not learned Chinese as Shiroihana had. They were warriors, not scholars. Inutaisho sat back, clenching his jaw and thrusting his chin into the air, a stance of defiance and pride. He did not look at Shiroihana when he said, _"I understand you, but you misunderstand me. You have been speaking with your brother, haven't you?"_

"Yes I have," Shiroihana answered in Japanese. She sniffed, disturbed by the incense. Her heas was starting to feel thick, trying to convulse with a headache. She thought of the air outside and longed to finish this worthless discussion. She turned her head slightly and barked an order at her father. "Leave us."

"Daughter," Shinkumaru objected, growling loudly. "You are being unnecessarily difficult!"

"I am your Queen," Shiroihana snapped at him. "Queens make their own alliances and choose their husbands at will. If you intend to impose your will on me I will imprison or banish you. Do not challenge me."

Shinkumaru bowed to her, but he was still growling restrainedly. His eyes fluttered to Inutaisho and Shiroihana read apology in them. Her skin flushed with heat, alarmed.

The moment Shinkumaru had gone Inutaisho began speaking rapidly in Chinese, leaning forward to her, invading her personal space slightly. _"I will only speak with you in this tongue. There are few here who know it well enough to overhear us."_

"Very well," Shiroihana murmured in Japanese. In a reflex she tried to reach up and stroke the warm, white, fluffy fur that Koshoshiro had given her, but she had not worn it with her armor. Her hair was up too, she had nothing to pet. She smoothed her hands over the flexible kitsune armor she was wearing instead, though the motion offered little comfort. She watched Inutaisho with a dispassionate interest, almost as if bored. "Tell me about yourself and why I should want to marry you."

Inutaisho glared at her, suddenly baring his teeth. _"If I divulge my past you must marry me."_

Shiroihana thought of Koshoshiro for a moment, of his subtlety, of the exchange of gifts, of the tantalizing game of cat and mouse. Partly she longed for that kind of courtship, of the anticipation and desire, of the build and release, like the carnal act itself, a fervent dance of gathering lust and its slaking, the intensity of the climax, and the languid bliss that followed. Yet that courtship of subtlety had failed, ending in disaster. Was it better to be blunt, to be bold and uncaring, with only an end in mind, rushed and pushed, poked and prodded, purposeful but anti-climactic?

"_Swear it. You must vow to marry me, to give me pups. My bloodline must continue."_ Inutaisho was on his feet before Shiroihana had realized it, moving about his tent, exerting extra energy with a bit of pacing. They were opposite, Shiroihana realized. Inutaisho was a bubbling, boiling pot of water, spilling over, uncontrolled, a pot that would burst with intelligence, need, and ambition. Meanwhile she was like her forebears, the Queens of the Kosetsu, solemn and calm, tranquil and patient outwardly, but sharp as needles inwardly.

Inutaisho snatched up the decorated porcelain urn with Samidare's ashes within it. "Swear—this," he said, lapsing into Japanese. At least some of his difficulty with language had not been faked, Shiroihana thought.

"Very well," she said, and then continued in Chinese, _"but you may not even wish to marry when you hear my conditions. They must be met as well or there will be no marriage."_ It was curious to her that Inutaisho was so eager to marry her. Surely he could have found a more willing bride. Nishiyori of the Middle Lands certainly must have had willing enough daughters and nieces to accept Inutaisho's attentions. Perhaps Shiroihana could frighten him off if she made him suffer and work for her a little more.

"Go on," Inutaisho ordered her. He sat down in front of her, closer than before. He placed the urn between them, ready and waiting, like a sort of shield to defend against Shiroihana's invisible attack, her barrage of words. When Shiroihana did not speak, distracted by examining the urn between them, Inutaisho grinned at her. His amber eyes gleamed with amusement. _"Queen Samidare is disappointed in you for doubting me."_

"Speak of her again and I will leave," Shiroihana hissed. It was uncouth and inappropriate to speak of the dead, especially with the urn right there. Shiroihana did not bother to restrain her glaring. "Any husband of mine is to strictly submit to me at all times. I do not give _you_ children, you give _me_ children. Daughters. The Kosetsu is passed only to heiresses." Because he was foreign she didn't know if this had been properly explained to him yet. Perhaps Shinkumaru and Samidare had meant to deceive him, though just what that would accomplish was beyond her.

Inutaisho did not appear troubled by this demand. _"And my sons?"_

"They cannot inherit the Kosetsu or the Kagetsu palace. But if your claim on the Tengai lands is honorable, it would make sense that if we had a son he would rule it." Shiroihana tensed as something in the tent set her on edge. It was unnamable, metaphysical. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and her skin felt chilled. In one breath she smelled wet earth, mildew and moisture, then it cleared and the incense had returned. Shiroihana forced away the sensation, ignoring it even as she registered what it was: _the dead._

Inutaisho had turned his head, gazing at some of the boxes stacked behind her. His lips were pursed, muscles in his jaw flickered. He nodded slowly and his attention drifted gradually back to her.

"_You mean to say my purpose in a marriage with you is the same as a stud horse. A stallion brought to mares when the time is right."_ A dark smirk curled over his lips and his teeth glittered brilliant white and they struck Shiroihana as very sharp. As sharp as the armor he had been wearing when she first saw him in the tent with her mother's ashes.

Shiroihana paused only for a moment before brushing her hands slowly over her body, the armor on her chest, stomach, and then smoothing out the nonexistent folds in her hakama. How odd it was to wear men's clothing. She was stalling and it was obvious, she could feel Inutaisho watching her. Would this admission be enough to dissuade him? No Queen normally admitted the terms of her marriage so bluntly, and although many husbands did have influence over their Queenly wives, essentially their role in the Kosetsu was as Inutaisho had just described. A Queen could not make daughters without a suitable partner of the male gender. Except in stories of magic, sex was always required. Shiroihana already understood that factor well enough.

"Yes," she admitted finally. The word came out tinged with something like triumph or challenge.

Inutaisho's smirk had changed into a grin. _"I will die before I fail you,"_ he said, laughing in a deep throated purr.

In spite of herself, Shiroihana felt her body responding, heating with lust. Inutaisho was a fine stud dog. There was likely no other to match him in all of Japan. But she needed to know where he came from, needed to understand his bloodline. Sometimes mutts could spontaneously have one beautiful pup, but he would grow up to breed only more mutts. And she had trouble believing that he would quietly retire as Shinkumaru had to play advisor and stud dog as a Queen would have wanted. But that did not matter as much in this case. Inutaisho could always live separate from her, ruling the Tengai lands along the coast if Shiroihana had difficulty controlling him. Many Queens had sent husbands away to provinces or back to their families when they fought for power or got in the way.

"You agree then?" Shiroihana asked. She was startled when she realized her voice had actually sounded eager, mildly enthusiastic.

Inutaisho gazed at her, so directly that Shiroihana fidgeted again, uncomfortable at his intense stare. He was _admiring_ her. He would be hungry, needy, overeager. Shiroihana both dreaded and anticipated the moment when they would join together in the marriage bed.

"You agree?" she pressed him when he did not answer, merely continued staring. Then when there was still more silence, she tried it in Chinese, _"You agree?"_

Inutaisho nodded once, a solemn motion of his head, but in his eyes joy burned feverishly, as well as something else that Shiroihana could not read at the time but later would recall and interpret as _relief._

He reached forward suddenly and Shiroihana stiffened. Inutaisho paused, sensing her tension, and then with deliberate slowness and gentleness, took her hands in his own. Shiroihana leaned forward as he moved her hands, placing them over the urn between them, over her mother's mortal remains. Then Inutaisho laid his hands over hers. The porcelain urn was cold to touch, chilly, but Inutaisho's hands were warm and moist, alive. _Life and death,_ Shiroihana thought, and felt the dead around her mysteriously, as if the tent were haunted. A shiver passed through her body. _Premonition. Destiny._

"_I exchange my secrets," _Inutaisho murmured, his voice deep and soft. _"For the honor of becoming Queen Shiroihana's stud."_ He was grinning as he spoke, though oddly his voice did not match the glee on his lips. Shiroihana was perplexed even as she endured the vow, distracted by this odd inuyoukai man. He was almost _goofy_, but Shiroihana sensed in the chill of the dead lingering so close by, in the cold touch of Fate, that something beyond her understanding had transpired here. She did not understand Inutaisho. She did not know if she ever would.

"Swear," Inutaisho said, speaking Japanese. "You will be my wife."

"I swear it," Shiroihana intoned, somber and stately. An image passed before her eyes when she blinked, short and startling—Koshoshiro's face as he rocked his hips into hers, thrusting, his mouth open wide, gasping as he climaxed.

Shiroihana pulled her hands away from the urn, blinking rapidly to banish the unbidden memory-image. She dove straight to the point, staring down her future husband. _"Tell me who you really are."_

And Inutaisho answered her with a full-throated, openmouthed laugh. _"I am the forgotten son of the Okou—the bastard of Himarugachi."_

Shiroihana was not amused, though she made an effort to disguise her inner disgust. She had hoped for a highborn relative of the Okou from the mainland, from China. She had gotten a mutt. She smiled, but it did not touch her eyes. "Himarugachi?" she asked.

Inutaisho had sobered slightly, but his lips still smiled their triumph. _"I am his youngest son, his final pup. His greatest accomplishment—but he died when I was only a hundred, after the panther demons invaded the very first time, two centuries ago. I was the only one of his sons to survive that first war. Me, I alone. But Himarugachi was dead too. My uncle took the inheritance and his first move was to banish me. I have lived on the mainland for two centuries, angry and deposed, but then I felt the call of the Okou clan, pulling me home."_ His smile had faded, growing steadily darker, more serious. He dropped his head in a bow and as he raised his head, reverently touched Samidare's urn with one hand. "Your mother," he said in Japanese, "knew the truth when she saw me."

"I was betrothed to a young man," Shiroihana murmured, not bothering to mask her words in Chinese. "Machitekishi?"

"_My uncle's heir, his grandson. They interbred after the war. Machitekishi's mother and father were related. All the strength of Himarugachi and my uncle was obscured, lost."_ Inutaisho raised his head higher, noticeably proud. "I am all that remains." He touched the urn and the solemnity of the moment vanished when he laughed lightly, grinning with a hard triumph gleaming in his amber eyes. _"And now the forgotten son will marry a Queen."_

"Then what is your real name?" Shiroihana demanded, impatient and disgusted with him, feeling somehow tricked, debased, abused. She glanced around his tent, seeing Inutaisho's objects with a new, fresh eye. He was a collector, a hoarder, keeping such treasures and trinkets, whatever was inside those splendid boxes, only because they bespoke of power, of control, of luxury and refinement that had been stolen from him.

_I am going to marry a bastard, a mutt._ Shiroihana felt nauseous. She suddenly wished that Inutaisho had kept his secrets, but knew that she would never speak of them.

Inutaisho rose and carried the urn with Samidare's ashes back to the paulownia wood table. He set it there with infinite care. _"I have had many names,"_ he said in Chinese, and then lapsed into Japanese smoothly. "Queen Shiroihana. My name changes with place, with time." He moved back to her and sat, leaning close and lowering his voice. _"I have been called Shoshi, Hiretsukan, Dog King, Dog General, and Inutaisho._ Which would Queen Shiroihana like to use?"

All of the first names were insults, the last three not real names at all. Shiroihana's hands clenched up. _"If you were this Himarugachi's child, especially the only survivor after the first panther war, you would have had a real name,"_ she argued.

"The past is no importance," Inutaisho told her in Japanese as he clasped her hands in his once more, squeezing them with what Shiroihana guessed was excitement or possibly affection. It only succeeded in making her uncomfortable. "Think only of the future. Our future." Then he slipped back into Chinese. _"You will keep my secrets? It is better if I am a mystery to this war, these lands, this army. I was forgotten, banished. I was reborn in this panther war."_ His hands squeezed again around hers and he looked her carefully in the eye. _"I was reborn a prince." _He grinned. _"But before you I will be just a stud."_

Overwhelmed, bemused, Shiroihana nodded. But the only thing she could think was: _Mother, this was the good match you had planned for me?_

_

* * *

_

Endnote: This did not want to end! Ugh!!

Questions answered: More on what his name really was. Also, where he came from in more detail. More to come!


	5. Shiroihana's Will

A/N: Coming out of my Faulkner class I think I have learned a lot that I can use in this story. Like the quote to begin Shiroihana's section: "The past is never dead. It isn't even past." In this case Faulkner has this quote because in his many novels characters and families find themselves repeating the same mistakes. Past constantly affects the present and future. What an ancestor did comes back around in his/her children. Thus, for _The Way of the Sword_ we have the Queen who meets the Bastard. The forgotten son, but the savior of that whole lost family and bloodline. If not for his banishment, Inutaisho would have perished (probably) with the rest of the Okou. But by returning as a mysterious, improperly named beast of vengeance…well…now he is Myth, Legend, he is a figure of Righteousness and Greatness. But there are two sides to the coin, Shiroihana has the Kosetsu and its rich history to juggle. And her past, her future, will irrevocably change and affect the future too. Of Sesshomaru (both of them) and Inutaisho and Izayoi and yes, even Inuyasha.

To **New Fan:** I enjoyed your comment! It prompted me to share the Faulkner thoughts spinning in my head. Past and future and present, constantly intertwined. Though you're right, Saya's importance to Shiroihana (for those of you who don't know Saya, she is Sess's hanyou daughter with Rin in my connected series) will not be entering this story, recall she has the mark of the Kosetsu, the crescent moon inherited from her father. And as events unfold here, you will see why Shiroihana is SO obsessed with Sesshomaru's daughters. All the daughters he has. Plus I am currently considering other stories to further _Return_ and _Innocence. _So much I could write!

_Otoutosan_—you saw it in the previous chapter, honorific term for "younger brother."  
_Chakushi_— legitimate heir.

Disclaimer: I do not own them, though Shiroihana is my name (not that someone else couldn't come up with it…der).

Last Chapter: Shiroihana met Inutaisho when she went with Daken the messenger inuyoukai to escort her to the battlefield. She didn't like him. Her brother Sess tried to warn her about him. Sess says Inutaisho is lowborn, uncouth, and a poor match for his sister because he will be unfaithful to her. Shiroihana made Sess vow to pass the Kosetsu to his daughters if something happened to her. Shinkumaru, Shiroihana, and Sess all paid respects to their mother's ashes. Later, Shiroihana met with Inutaisho directly to discuss marriage and alliance as Samidare and Shinkumaru had been planning, but Inutaisho was playing dumb, using his accent and difficulty with Japanese to hide his true self. Too bad that Shiroihana speak Chinese and he hadn't anticipated that. Shiroihana played hardball with Inutaisho. She traded her vow of marriage with him for his secrets and learned that Inutaisho is the bastard child of Machitekishi's (seen in chap 1) grandfather Himarugachi. Also, while speaking with him, Shiroihana tried to intimidate him by saying his purpose in a marriage in the Kosetsu was only to act as a stud dog to give her daughters. Inutaisho—oddly—agreed. And there was that creepy feeling in the tent, the presence of the dead…

* * *

Give me your hand, my brother, search my face;  
Look in these eyes lest I should think of shame;  
For we have made an end of all things base.  
We are returning by the road we came.

Your lot is with the ghosts of soldiers dead,  
And I am in the field where men must fight.  
But in the gloom I see your laurell'd head  
And through your victory I shall win the light.

_To My Brother_ by Siegfried Sassoon

* * *

Shiroihana

In my youth I was not superstitious. The dead do not matter to one who is nearly immortal. Yet I knew of their existence. They had been corralled by Queens of the past to guard the slopes of the mountainside where Kagetsu palace was built. I had never been comfortable with the idea of conversing with them. The dead are not always truthful. A properly trained Queen, a medium, can navigate their bitterness, their unending schemes and learn the truth, twist it for her own good. The dead know much that cannot otherwise be learned. A spirit, even a human one, perhaps even a child's soul, is able to pass unfettered through walls, through every locked door and secret hall. Perhaps even the minds and hearts of the living are not closed to them.

Certainly the future is not unknown.

My mother was not a Queen with the drive of a medium. I did not intend to gain this power, nor use it ever. The physical world was always foremost in my mind. Yet there is one thing almost no one currently living knows about the Dog General. My former husband, the savior of these islands, the greatest warrior ever to set foot anywhere—so the poets would have us think—was very familiar with the dead. He was also very superstitious, ruled by omens and signs. I did not discover this upon my first few encounters with him, but husbands and wives come to know many dark secrets about one another, even when they are deeply hidden from prying, searching eyes.

Inutaisho and I did not know each other. If I had known him, seen through him with the power of a medium, I wonder whether I would have given myself to him at all. I do not know what the consequences of that decision would be. I think I would have had no choice. All roads within my life led to Inutaisho, led to the present and the future. One of us knew this and fought for it, but it was not me.

Inutaisho had peculiar, perfect timing. He rose to power suddenly, from nowhere, speaking Chinese-accented Japanese and claiming to be one of the dead Okou. I have heard poets say he was Heaven-sent and blessed, called by a higher power. I know that _higher power_ to be the voices of the dead and my former husband's own superstition. Inutaisho hid this power from me, but no matter. Truth has a fascinating way of revealing itself with time.

Sesshomaru. I have much to thank you for, and so much to regret. It is a shame that as you grew I could not speak with you as I longed to. It is a shame that I could not tell you who you really are. _Otoutosan-Chakushi._

_

* * *

  
_

**Shiroihana's Will**

Shiroihana did not see Inutaisho again on the battlefield. After her discussion and vow to marry him, the rise and fall of Chinese rolling between them like waves in the sea; Shiroihana rejoined her father and brother and found herself sent away swiftly. She was given an empty part of the partitioned tent that Shinkumaru was in. It stank with a scent like canine, but unclear to Shiroihana's nose. It was not until the next morning when she woke covered in the scent that she recognized it as the stink of impurity, of a mixed-species, the blending of wolf and dog.

Early that morning Shiroihana saw troops filter in, soldiers of all kinds. It was the return of the raid Sesshomaru had told her about, the one led by Koshoshiro using the tactics first employed by Inutaisho. Scents and auras surrounded Shiroihana, and all who passed her paused and stared, startled by her. She was young, her armor ill-fitting, and she was female. Inuyoukai females were seldom involved on the battlefield. They tended to be scarcer than wolves, who lived in extended packs and had enormous broods with males taking multiple wives, and adopted more humanlike ways. Inuyoukai women were too precious more often than not to waste their time on the battlefield. The Okou had died out in this second war because they could not replenish their numbers fast enough. There were enough women, but not enough men. Would it have helped or harmed them to allow the women to fight?

Samidare had fought. It had killed her too, but Samidare left two strong grown children behind.

One of them was a Queen.

Shiroihana saw the gaze of many of the inuyoukai that passed her, wolves, kitsune, and bears, flick with unabashed interest to her forehead where the purple mark of the crescent moon marked Shiroihana even more than the pink-red bands over her cheeks, one on each side. She was highborn amongst the highborn, she was Queen.

And she had promised to marry a mongrel, a scoundrel. She thought of Koshoshiro and wondered if he was still alive, if he had survived the raid he had led. She thought of his daughter in the Middle Lands, alone without him except for some stepmother. Then, though she tried to suppress it, Shiroihana imagined the pup that she had bled out, the pup who had never been allowed to grow a body. _Our child would have been beautiful. _

As if recalling this secret had summoned him, Shiroihana suddenly felt a familiar aura. She lifted her nose, sniffing lightly, trying to pick out his scent. The soldiers had mostly tramped through, they had been a river passing before her moments ago, but now they had slowed to a trickle. And at the end of this dying stream was Koshoshiro, dressed in full armor and war regalia.

He was watching her as he strode up the hill, his head lifted, his face unrestrainedly animated with joy—but his blue eyes were dark, tinged with a brooding sadness. Shiroihana wondered whether that was the influence of battle, of witnessing death, or if it was aimed at her meaningfully.

Although her first inclination was to approach and greet him, to ask for news like a commanding Queen, Shiroihana held herself back. She gazed around the camp, seeking any sight of Inutaisho. His aura was so powerful it seemed to have an enormous reach. Though there was no visual or scent sign of him, Shiroihana felt his presence as if he were standing beside her. She felt a shiver of dislike and faced Koshoshiro with a determination to ignore the chance that Inutaisho was watching her.

Koshoshiro bowed deeply to her from the waist. "Queen Shiroihana," he murmured, his voice softer than she had expected. "I had not expected to see you here. Lady Samidare's death, it is a tragedy. I feel personally at fault—"

"Why should you?" Shiroihana interrupted, motioning impatiently for him to lift his head and face her. "You had nothing to do with her death."

Koshoshiro gave a short shake of his head. He did not look at her, did not meet her eye. Shame flickered across his features. Their secret lay heavy between them, dense as mercury. Though Koshoshiro did not look at her, Shiroihana gazed at him, taking in the dirt and blood on his clothes and armor, even on his face and in his hair. Finally he said, "I feel that if I had allied my forces with the Kosetsu sooner, I could have prevented her death. If I had been more…" words failed him for a moment and he gestured with a clawed hand, frustrated.

"Aggressive," Shiroihana suggested, fighting the desire to smile wanly, even bitterly.

Koshoshiro's gaze flew to hers and he nodded mutely. He whispered, "I have wronged you."

The whisper used familiar language, direct and intimate. Shiroihana felt her face flush with heat. Samidare's voice and face hovered in her mind, as if her spirit had brushed past her, nudging her in the right direction. _I must learn ruthlessness or at least give that appearance of ruthlessness. _

"Think nothing of it," she replied, using cold, formal words. "Your forces have been of great aid, regardless of when they arrived. Queen Samidare could not live forever."

Koshoshiro's eyes jumped to hers, brilliant blue but tainted with darkness. He searched her face with a look of bafflement and alarm. "I have offended Queen Shiroihana." He dropped to his knees and started to bow.

Shiroihana snatched his arm before he could do it. "Stand up," she ordered, curtly. "I am not offended."

He did not appear convinced and resumed avoiding direct eye contact. His cheeks had flushed. The three bands of blue-green color on each cheek stood out against his blush like bruises or old wounds.

"Our alliance will continue for many years," Shiroihana reassured him. "I would like to congratulate Lord Koshoshiro on his recent marriage. I look forward to our continued correspondence. Have you had word of your daughter and how she is doing?"

Relief relaxed Koshoshiro's face. He nodded, beaming with pride. "My wife writes with good news of her. She is very bright. She adores having her teachers, her nurse, and my wife read to her all hours of the day when she isn't sleeping or eating. I think she would make a fine heiress. Such intelligence seems an awful thing to waste." He paused and then, reluctantly added, "My new wife is not as intelligent as my daughter's mother was. I doubt our future children will equal Taikokajin."

Shiroihana smiled slightly, lightly amused. "Then make her your heiress, Lord Koshoshiro."

"Perhaps I will," Koshoshiro replied, returning Shiroihana's smile. Then he bowed slightly and excused himself. "I must meet with Lord Inutaisho. I have met with success. Not a single panther escaped with his life."

"I would not dream of keeping you," Shiroihana purred, admiring the flow of his white hair, the clank of his armor. She imagined the muscles of his chest and hips moving as he entered and rose out of the bow. The ache of desire started within her, yearning for him, but Shiroihana buried it, disgusted with herself.

Koshoshiro had not missed her reaction, however. His last look was one of regret and of a similar longing. "Queen Shiroihana should not be on the battlefield. She must live on and marry; she must have a daughter of her own."

"You are all so fond of saying that," Shiroihana murmured. "I grow tired of empty palaces." _Of empty beds, of hollow walls, of empty corridors. _If she had carried Koshoshiro's pup she could be busy with it now, nursing and cooing and singing…

"It is for the Queen's own safety, for the sake of the future," Koshoshiro told her. He began to walk away, but seemed unwilling to turn his back on her, as if being away from her pained him.

"Go," she ordered.

He did and Shiroihana watched his back as he retreated, moving after the mostly vanished flow of his troops.

Shiroihana loved and despised him. He left her weak with desire, taunted her with his unavailability and the continual ghost-memory of the child they had created and then washed away. She tried to imagine his daughter Taikokajin in the Middle Lands in the lap of some dullard inuyoukai woman, the child's eyes bright with learning. Surely Shiroihana's eyes had possessed the same light as a tiny pup. And her children, her daughters and sons would be the same. _I would have given you a strong, brilliant son,_ she told Koshoshiro's retreating form.

It was never to be and the thought of Inutaisho's seed, of his hidden intelligence, his mongrel beginnings, his obscured name, frightened Shiroihana. Would he give her stupid daughters who could do little but growl and tussle, bite and yap? Idiot children. Mongrels born by a Queen with no other choice.

It seemed to make little difference to Shiroihana now whether she lived or died. The line of Queens already felt broken to her, ruined, tarnished and out of reach.

* * *

She met with Sesshomaru in the evening, in his own tent which was across the valley, far on the other side, away from where Samidare and Shinkumaru and Inutaisho stayed with the main body of forces. She revealed that she had vowed to marry Inutaisho, but did not bother to hide her dislike of the arrangement.

"My sister is not speaking her mind," Sesshomaru muttered, frowning angrily. "I cannot believe that she too has fallen under the Dog General's spell."

"Not at all." Shiroihana enjoyed her brother's tent above her father's and Inutaisho's. Sesshomaru had been given a small band of pure troops, inuyoukai rounded up from the Middle Lands and the Kosetsu. They were an elite force, and commanding them was an honor for Sesshomaru, but he was so far from where Samidare and Inutaisho—who had really been running things—were camped that Shiroihana also perceived insult. Were these troops that he commanded, all of them curiously inuyoukai, somehow untrustworthy? Had Sesshomaru, also viewed untrustworthy by Samidare, been placed in charge of them and set apart from the main force because they did not want him with them where he could influence the main troops and cause dissent?

At any rate Sesshomaru had a fine sense of style. He had collected gifts, rugs and swords and armor and even blankets to cover his futon. Some of them appeared foreign, obviously given by Inutaisho. Shiroihana recalled the sword her brother had shown her so long ago, the blood-letter Shurajou. It was still tied at her brother's waist, by all appearances a proud trophy.

"I heard Sister speaking in Chinese," Sesshomaru admitted. He smiled, small and hard. "Now I wish that I had learned it with my sister."

"Stop being formal," Shiroihana scolded. "I am not here formally, not exactly."

"Father and the Dog General do not want you here at all," Sesshomaru told her.

Shiroihana was sitting on her brother's futon, in the place of honor—if a tent could be said to have one. Sesshomaru was on the floor near the door. He appeared youthful, strong, and perhaps even cheerful, in spite of their subject, one that Shiroihana knew he didn't like. Though he made faces at hearing she was going to be married to Inutaisho, Sesshomaru was relaxed, happy beneath hearing bad news.

Shiroihana cocked her head, regarding him. "And what does my brother think?"

Sesshomaru sat up straighter. His lips quirked in a small but genuine expression, a half-smile. His purple eyes, a strange mix that had come about between Samidare's gold and Shinkumaru's blue-green, were dark in the dimness of the tent. "I believe that I am a subject of Queen Shiroihana of the Kosetsu. I believe that as her subject I should be concerned for her safety and for the succession of the Kosetsu. But I also feel that a Queen has the right to do what she wishes. Queen Samidare did what she willed. I never tried to stop her, only advise. I will do the same now."

"Then what do you advise, Little Brother?" Shiroihana asked, unable to stop herself from beaming at him with gratification.

"A Queen should see with her own eyes if she feels it suitable. A Queen should have what she wants."

"Little Brother is biased—if I die here then I have already told him that I wish him to succeed me with his daughters." She was teasing him partly, but also testing him. Everything he said could be tainted by ambition rather than love. It was not unheard of for plots such as this to eliminate current monarchs so that a usurper who was not direct in line could take their place.

Sesshomaru scowled and shook his head. He blurted, "You sound like Mother. Mother suspected everything I did and said." The words were hard and bitter. "If you died right now Inutaisho would go to war with the Kosetsu and claim it."

"What?" Shiroihana asked, alarmed.

"He is to be married to you. He will say he has the right. He would ignore me completely or have me captured and killed." Sesshomaru's eyes were narrow and his lips pinched.

"Nothing has been set into official document. As far as anyone else knows, I am heirless. Inutaisho cannot claim a right and neither can you."

Sesshomaru did not look away from her. His gaze challenged her, dared her. "I know which contender would be the true usurper. I also know which heir Queen Shiroihana prefers—and which will honor the line of Queens."

"Your oath," Shiroihana said, nodding.

"I am honored by my sister, my Queen. I am heartened as well by your faith in me. Our mother had none." He did not say it but Shiroihana heard it, the unspoken thought, knowledge even: _Samidare regretted Sesshomaru's birth._ Shiroihana however, did not. Samidare had had the ruthlessness to condemn and kill her son if he was a threat, Shiroihana did not. Was it really the weakness that Samidare had thought?

"You mentioned war. Why do you think that Inutaisho would go to war to claim the Kosetsu? He has the Tengai to worry about."

Sesshomaru's jaw squared, the muscles hard-set. "Our honorable parents did not tell my sister everything that went on when they first met the Dog General."

Sesshomaru alarmed her as he went on, explaining that when they had first encountered him, Inutaisho was very angry that they had spilled into the Tengai lands. He had proclaimed himself to be the last of the Okou, come to avenge them, though his accent was clearly Chinese. Samidare had called his bluff, but Inutaisho already had a massive personal following. He had already won battles where everyone else had despaired and retreated. The panthers had been gobbling up the land and its people before his arrival, but after it a glimmer of hope returned and began to build.

Samidare and Shinkumaru were called usurpers, invaders to the Tengai. Apologies were expressed swiftly. There was no reason to start in-fighting. It would only weaken them and Samidare and Shinkumaru both saw Inutaisho's value, foreign or not, opportunist liar, impersonator of the dead Okou or not. Sesshomaru had acted as the go between, stoic and calm. That was when Inutaisho had given him so many gifts, signs of his generous, good-nature. Shinkumaru and Samidare began to cling to Inutaisho, seeing him as a promise for winning the war, especially while they waited for Koshoshiro to back them up.

"Then, not long after we had established friendly communications and joined our forces with his, the Dog General approached Father directly. He did not go through me He suggested a marriage for further alliance. He mentioned you by name."

Shiroihana made out a note of importance in her brother's voice, but missed its meaning. "Why is that important?"

Sesshomaru dropped his voice, nearly hissing. "No one had told him that there was a princess of the Kosetsu. There was no way he could have learned it so soon. Shiroihana—Sister—he has planned to rule both lands, the Tengai and the Kosetsu, from the moment he set foot on these shores. If he could not force our family, our clan out of the Kosetsu with brute strength and intimidation, then he would do it by marriage."

Shiroihana was silent, disturbed.

Her brother continued, speaking directly, hushed and frantic with intimate words, the language of two siblings, bound by familial devotion and a childhood of play. "He must have spies. He uses them with the panthers. They don't stand any chance. We are not safe, even now. Sister—you should not have traded yourself to him. It is not safe."

His face had contorted, warped around the eyes with emotion that Shiroihana could see he was struggling to hide, to bury, to dismiss. _He thinks Inutaisho will kill me._

She felt as if her heart had ceased, and certainly her breathing had. She recalled Inutaisho's insistence to marry her, in spite of her demands. He did not care what she demanded because he only needed to go through with the ceremony, to inject himself like a parasite into the line of Queens. Yet she also recalled his face, the hard lines of triumph, of joy. But there was also softness too, the hidden layers that he had revealed when she spoke Chinese. Her gut told her that Inutaisho was detailed, thick and dense, like rolls of sushi, levels of seaweed and raw fish rolled together. Unroll the outside and an entirely new part was discovered. Had the urn in his tent been an act, or had he truly cared about Samidare?

She could not believe that both her parents had been blinded to this potential threat. It made no sense.

She shook her head. "Sesshomaru—there must be another explanation."

Sesshomaru nodded, but the emotion was still in his eyes. "Mother claimed that he could commune with the dead. He spoke with her alone many times. I thought…"

"Thought what?" Shiroihana demanded, growing impatient, desperate for answers.

"They were very close. Forgive me, Sister. I feared she was unfaithful. Father was unconcerned. He always deferred to Mother. When I tried to suggest it…" Sesshomaru's expression blanked, cooling. "We had a disagreement. He no longer trusts me. He and our mother had no love for me."

How much worse could this situation get? Shiroihana realized she was fidgeting with her hands, squeezing them, rubbing them until the flesh bleached white with the pressure. Her mind spun. _I am too old not to be married,_ she repeated. But there was Inutaisho's secrets, his low birth, his banishment, and now doubt, his scheming, his deviousness. But was this all truthful? Shiroihana longed to trust her brother, but his opinion was certainly tainted too. It couldn't be all right. She went over her meeting with Inutaisho, and then with Sesshomaru's opinion, trying to meld them together, to understand this husband-to-be.

"Commune with the dead?" she asked.

Sesshomaru nodded once. "That was Mother's assertion. It is true that I have felt…odd, a certain coldness inside his tent. And he has so many strange possessions."

Shiroihana had felt it too. "Mother was right. He must be a medium of some kind. He has many secrets. Many more than he told me last night." She locked gazes with her younger brother and felt the muscles in her jaw snap tight. "But I feel we cannot think him a heartless conqueror, to the point where he would kill me. He wants his bloodline to continue, like anyone. We must be careful," Shiroihana blinked as she heard herself and realized how shaken she sounded, how alarmed. She fought to compose it. "Perhaps I will leave after all. I will set down a will. I'll name you as my heir and your daughters after me."

Sesshomaru bowed to her. "I would accompany my Queen but my absence, with you, would cause undue attention."

"It would stir Inutaisho's suspicion," Shiroihana muttered. She was silent for a moment and then abruptly rose to her feet. Sesshomaru followed her motion, stepping aside from the door. Shiroihana moved as if to leave without speaking again, but hesitated and turned, facing her younger brother. They were very close in height, one of slight build, the other of shorter but thicker, powerful stature. Sesshomaru's markings, the smooth purple and his dark eyes, seemed grim and somber, but impossibly beautiful.

Unbidden, Shiroihana thought that he would make a fine ruler, a King. He would be as grand and wise as any Queen.

Overwhelmed with affection, Shiroihana reached out, touching her brother's cheek. He was wearing his armor and probably never took it off while on the battlefield, but Shiroihana desperately wanted to see him clothed in simple night robes or bare-chested in loose, baggy hakama, sparring with their father. She wanted the war to be over or to return to the peaceful past, to a time when her brother had yawned and needed to sleep, when he had grinned wolfishly, innocent and childlike.

Sesshomaru took her hand, squeezing it. His eyes were suddenly bright, his chin and brow wrinkled. "Sister, you have been much in my thoughts. There was so much I wanted to say but could not. I am afraid for you. Mother would never listen, Father despises me…"

Shiroihana's throat constricted, cold and hot, painful with the urge to cry. She had imagined she had a difficult burden on her shoulders, uniting the Middle Lands, enduring her failed attempt at marriage with both Machitekishi and Koshoshiro, as well as Samidare's death. Now she saw Sesshomaru's pain and realized how alone he was. An unwanted son in a land that valued only its daughters and mothers. For as much ambition as Sesshomaru had, his heart was pure, filled with longing for a family who feared him.

"_Otoutosan,"_ she whispered. She tugged on his hand and laid it over her own flexible armor, above her breasts, over her heart. "You will always have my love."

Sesshomaru lowered his gaze, blinking several times rapidly. He pulled his hand away. "You must go. Be safe, Shiroihana—_oneesan."_

She paused for a moment, memorizing his face, committing the moment into her mind, her heart, to preserve it forever. _Otoutosan._ Then she stepped out of his tent and left the camp, left the battlefield, alone and unnoticed. Secret and unannounced as a spy.

* * *

The journey was frantic but uneventful. Shiroihana returned to the palace she had come to hate with its mocking silence, but she barely noticed it in her desperation. She buried herself in records, genealogies of the inuyoukai clans. She found the Okou easily enough and began to research them heavily; she was seeking the Himarugachi that Inutaisho had claimed was his father. She found him without much difficulty. He was of the generation before her parents, older than they were. He had had several noted children, both sons and daughters.

Himarugachi had had no recorded sons younger than five hundred years old. There was no way that Inutaisho was five hundred. Shiroihana examined the notes on each of his sons, their birth and death dates. All of his sons had died at the time Inutaisho had told her about, a little over two hundred years ago. That coincided with the time when the panthers had first entered the Japanese islands, when the Okou had indeed fought them off and been reduced so greatly in stature and numbers.

None of the sons matched Inutaisho's age, and all of them were dead. Himarugachi himself was dead too. Shiroihana raged internally, pacing with her fists clenched, thinking furiously. How much of a mongrel was Inutaisho really? Was his mother so lowborn that his birth had truly not been recorded on the genealogy of the Okou clan?

She examined the line from Himarugachi's younger brother, the elderly leader who had come to visit the Kosetsu when Shiroihana had been betrothed to Machitekishi. She found Machitekishi's parents and with a jolt realized that they were _first cousins._ So many had died within the clan and its strength had diminished so much that they had been unable to approach another clan and barter for a proper wife for _Myouan,_ Machitekishi's father. The broader inuyoukai clan had left the Okou for _dead._ Only the Kosetsu had agreed for alliance, and then only because they were weak and their land could be taken by a strong Queen like Shiroihana. Add to that the fact that the two lands were side by side…

Samidare truly had been cruel. The Okou had been ready to enter into an alliance that would all but spell their doom. Their name would fade, tied forever to the line of Queens, absorbed by the Kosetsu clan's grandness and greater power.

Perhaps there was reason for Inutaisho's enmity after all. But then again, Shiroihana had still not found anything in the genealogy to backup Inutaisho's claim that he really was one of the Okou, even if he was an unacknowledged bastard. He had come out with it so swiftly, but why did Shiroihana think he would tell the truth? If he was ashamed of his identity and hiding it, why would he so easily tell Shiroihana? Even the vow of marriage did not promise the truth.

The record did not show a lie, but it did not confirm truth either. Shiroihana returned to it with a wider view.

She read all she could on Himarugachi's children. Several daughters had been born to him first, and many of these were given away in alliance. Daughters were not considered by the Okou to be part of the bloodline. They furthered the bloodline of their husbands and father-in-laws through marriage instead. The child of one of Himarugachi's daughters would _not_ be considered one of the Okou.

It was this thought that led her to a small notation regarding Himarugachi's second daughter, a woman named Kiremono. Kiremono had been a favorite among Himarugachi's daughters. A marriage was lined up for her early in her life. She was beautiful, intelligent, and physically tough. Himarugachi had spoiled her, the record said, and she had dishonored him. Kiremono's marriage was annulled when she entered it already pregnant. She was sentenced to death but disappeared. Himarugachi disowned her, but the rumor abounded that his daughter had appealed to him, pleading that Himarugachi accept her son into the Okou clan. An innocent child should not be punished for his mother's transgressions. Himarugachi turned her away.

In the genealogy, Kiremono's name was stricken out with a line through it, obscuring the characters. There was no record of her child, her son.

Shiroihana knew with certainness that it was Inutaisho.

Amongst the Okou the bastard child of a son might be acknowledged, accepted after a fashion and raised, but the bastard of a daughter, no matter how beloved, would be ignored. Inutaisho was the bastard son of Kiremono, not Himarugachi.

Machitekishi and Inutaisho had been cousins. Himarugachi had been Inutaisho's grandson, not his son.

That meant he was _not one of the Okou._ By the Okou clan's own views and expectations. But in the Kosetsu…

The bastard pup of a daughter in Shiroihana's clan would have a chance at being acknowledged, particularly if it was a girl.

Shiroihana took this information to heart, something to reflect on and use against Inutaisho. But was war the right course?

She was impatient but the only solution was _time._ She did not know Inutaisho yet, but delving past his lies could give her power over him.

Shiroihana arranged documents to be set down. She called in the geckos and the monkeys and made sure they all witnessed it, heard it as she read the document aloud. It was her will, naming Sesshomaru as her heir. And his daughters after him. It specifically excluded Inutaisho, naming him as only "_my husband."_

She had it stored away safely with her signature on it. Now all that she awaited was the end of the war and Sesshomaru's return. He would have to sign it to make it official. Then he would be her heir until she produced a daughter of her own.

* * *

The war dragged on until midsummer. It was not fighting so much now as settling internal disputes and reordering the land. Shiroihana endured her time alone in Kagetsu palace, barely. She wrote constantly as she had before, but now she was tormented by anxiety, a sense of wrongness waiting at the edges of her world, lurking in corners.

Inutaisho began writing to her—in Chinese. The characters were similar to Japanese, after all the script of the islands had been strongly influenced, even modeled on the Chinese form. If the letters were taken they would be puzzling, but not impossible to decipher. Apparently Inutaisho knew this because his letters did not share delicate information. Even so Shiroihana was impressed by his calligraphy. She could read boldness and strength, but she could also see intelligence and wit. He was often succinct and even deliberately funny. Shiroihana found herself enjoying the letters, not only because she could exercise her knowledge of Chinese script, but because Inutaisho was _entertaining._ In their short exchange, Shiroihana realized that Inutaisho had been closely observing her. He had learned a lot.

Unlike Machitekishi and even Koshoshiro, he was blunt, short, and to the point. It was not that he couldn't be bothered to use flowery language or whittle out lines of passable poetry, but he had apparently observed that she did not expect it. When he did do it, the poems were oddly constructed, and about bizarre topics. In one letter he wrote about a battle from shortly after he had arrived from the mainland and described the fighting youkai warriors as "lice crawling over a scalp."

Poems were supposed to be about nature, beauty, and love. Now about parasites and war. Nevertheless, Shiroihana found herself laughing.

"_I have tried to be entertaining, Queen Shiroihana, and to write often. You must be thoroughly bored in that palace all alone. I promise I will keep you busy when we are married. Our sons will irritate you to the point that you wish for this time of solitude to return. I have heard that the palace in the Kosetsu lands is perched on a high misty mountain. If I were you, I would strip and go running about outside in my true form. Queen Shiroihana was too pale when I saw her before, sitting in my tent! You must go and eat a deer, drain it dry. That will put the color back in your cheeks."_

It became difficult for Shiroihana to imagine that Inutaisho planned to kill her and take the Kosetsu the way Sesshomaru had described. And yet letters could easily be playacting for Inutaisho. Whatever education he had had, Shiroihana knew it was nothing like her own.

She always replied to him in short letters, composing poetry to answer his if she could—but writing about soldiers like live on a scalp was not something so could compete with—mostly she asked about the battlefield. It was a safe topic and often one that Inutaisho ignored unless prompted to discuss.

Letters came jointly from Sesshomaru and Shinkumaru, positively predicting their return and announcing that it would be with Inutaisho. She should be prepared to receive them. Shinkumaru had decided that Shiroihana and Inutaisho would be married in the fall and betrothed as soon as they returned.

Shiroihana sensed her brother's silence, coerced, and untrusting of the messengers who would carry his letters. He was playing safe, playing dumb. Shinkumaru and Inutaisho both had no idea that Shiroihana had made Sesshomaru her heir. She suspected neither would be happy to discover it.

Koshoshiro wrote too and they relationship settled into an easy, warm friendship. He was pleased that she would be soon married and hoped that she would be blessed with a daughter soon. He also confided that he had decided to take her advice. He would tentatively name his daughter as his heiress, as the next leader of the Nanka and the Middle Lands as a whole. His other children with his new wife could rule a differing province, left empty after one of the many civil wars that had torn the Middle Lands apart previously.

At night sometimes, Shiroihana dreamed that she was married to Koshoshiro and that his daughter was golden eyed and carried the mark of the Kosetsu, the crescent moon on her forehead. She dreamed that she had been his wife, that she still was his wife. And each night they could retire into the privacy of their bed chambers and intertwine their bodies together, joining in bliss, joining as one.

* * *

The day was hot and dry, even high up in Kagetsu palace on the mountainside when Shinkumaru and Sesshomaru returned. Shiroihana had anticipated this and made sure food was prepared the moment she sensed their incoming arrival by their auras. It was in the early afternoon and Shiroihana was already dressed. With some irritation she went through the process of redressing in finer robes to pose properly as Samidare would have. She donned a headdress with tinkling ornaments like charms and sat fidgeting impatiently as a few monkey youkai sat by and applied heavy makeup to her face. They used crushed flower petals, pink and purple, to color in Shiroihana's highborn markings and the half-circle of the crescent moon.

She used a larger audience room for the occasion, avoiding the white room with its winter scene in favor of a golden one with a summer scene on it. Peacocks lazed in a garden, so lifelike that Shiroihana had sometimes snuck into the room as a child and watched them, certain they would move under some enchantment. The matting was darker in this room and smelled fresh but dusty, like dry summer grass. Shiroihana took a spot on the raised platform, the position of honor, and waited for the geckos to direct her family and her guest to the room.

Three men entered, as she had expected. Their scents and auras were all familiar to her: Sesshomaru, Shinkumaru, and Inutaisho. Shinkumaru and Inutaisho sat closest to her platform, leaving Sesshomaru in the least noteworthy position, the place where unimportant guests would have sat. Before they bowed to her to begin the formal, almost ceremonial introductions and greetings, Shiroihana stopped them.

"Brother—come closer. Sit in a half circle with Lord Inutaisho in the center," she ordered.

There was a long moment of awkwardness as all three men reacted. Sesshomaru appeared to enjoy the favoritism. He almost glowered with satisfaction as he rose and stepped closer to Shiroihana's platform. Inutaisho was forced to scoot back t form the half circle. It was a symbolic motion, indicating that he was the least important and powerful of the three men. His expression was bland, but Shiroihana did not miss the tightness of the skin around his eyes, or the tiny pucker of his lips. His movement was also short and tense. His back arched straight and upright. He was compensating for his position as her least favored by appearing the most stubborn and proud.

Somehow, it amused Shiroihana to see him overcompensating, trying to stretch out, to sit higher than both Shinkumaru and Sesshomaru.

Her father was openly unhappy with the change. He was frowning as he took his new spot, not equal to Inutaisho any longer, but aligned with his son instead. His frown did not go away even after he had bowed and Shiroihana had acknowledged all of them.

As the eldest, Shinkumaru spoke to her first. "Queen Shiroihana, Daughter, we have returned. The war with the panthers is over at last."

Inutaisho interrupted him, grunting, "More than over. They are virtually extinct."

The dynamic between the three men was amusing. Shiroihana found herself immensely entertained, though it struck her as childish that she enjoyed their discomfort. After having Inutaisho write to her, Shiroihana was not alarmed or upset by his breech of protocol. Inutaisho was a bastard. He had not been raised in etiquette. He did not understand that Shinkumaru was addressing Shiroihana, that Shiroihana would speak after him unless she requested information from someone else.

Or if Inutaisho did know how to behave, he chose to pretend he didn't. Either way it no longer offended Shiroihana, only amused her because she could expect it from him, and in her current position she could _see_ all of them react. Inutaisho appeared confident, satisfied, and comfortable. Sesshomaru was annoyed though he did not show it openly. Shinkumaru scowled in displeasure and watched Shiroihana nervously.

"Your accent has improved," Shiroihana said, speaking to Inutaisho. If he could be blunt, so could she. She was Queen after all and had more right.

This had the desired effect. Inutaisho cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. She had embarrassed him. No one else pointed out his accent, just accepted him because of his power and prowess as a warrior. Shiroihana enjoyed watching him squirm, small as it was. She did not try to stop the smile that curled over her lips, happy as a cat settling down for a nap in front of the fire.

Shiroihana took a moment to look between the three men and dropped the playful, mildly sadistic smile of moments before in favor of adopting a softer expression of serenity. She lifted her arms as if she expected all three of them to rush to her and embrace her as one unit, as if they were her children, not her brother, a suitor, and her father. It was an all-encompassing motion that Shiroihana had seen Samidare do to messengers, human warriors, farmers, and to Shinkumaru or Sesshomaru on their return. It was a universal gesture of welcome.

"The Kosetsu and Kagetsi palace welcomes back her finest warriors!" She lowered her head in an exaggerated nod, a motion that would have replaced a daughter, wife, or sister's bow to male family returning from war. Queens did not bow, only nodded.

The room was dense, silent except for the tinkle and jangle of the ornaments in Shiroihana's hair. When she sat up Shiroihana was pleased to see their faces, all three of them, open and pleased. She tried to appear uninterested in any one of them specifically, letting her eyes jump from father, to suitor, to brother and back again, but she felt uneasy at Inutaisho's expression. It seemed to be glowing admiration and—_want._ It was a look she had seen on Koshoshiro's face when they had faced each other, vulnerable and exposed, revealing their shared emotions.

But she did not trust that look on anyone but Koshoshiro. Inutaisho had tricked her; Sesshomaru contended that he was power-hungry and desperate, even that he would kill her or at least dominate her in a marriage. But in her solitude in the previous months, and during her time conversing with Inutaisho through letters, Shiroihana had partly buried her concerns. The mantra, brought on by loneliness, had returned again.

_I am too old not to be married._ She could not deny it. She had been drinking the herbal tea for months now, expecting Inutaisho to accompany her brother and father. She did not want to fall into another heat and was astounded that she hadn't suffered one on her first meeting with Inutaisho. Only her grief for Samidare had probably kept it back. It was time for her to take a mate, to bear children of her own.

But with Inutaisho? A bastard of a dead, vanished family?

There seemed no point in fighting the marriage, but Shiroihana was determined not to walk into it blinded with infatuation or lust. The purpose of the marriage was simple and cold. There would be no love, maybe even no affection. She could use it all on her daughters, on her brother. A marriage was exactly as she had described it to Inutaisho: she needed a stud to create heiresses.

There were many fears spinning inside Shiroihana's mind, but in the moment Inutaisho was not a threat, only a suitor. And as for the matter of succession…

Shiroihana turned toward the door of the audience room and motioned with her clawed hand, artificially paled with white creams. "Monkey, bring the document."

"Document?" Shinkumaru asked, baffled. "My Queen?"

Shiroihana clasped her hands together in her lap and offered him a cold smile and silence. All three men watched her and then, perplexed, looked at each other. Shiroihana watched Sesshomaru's face and saw the secret glimmer of knowledge in his eyes, in his teeth behind his closed lips. It was relief and triumph.

The monkey youkai came out, trundling on uncertain, hand-like feet and set the parchment beside Shiroihana. More servants, this time the sturdier geckos, brought in ink and brushes as well as a small writing table. Their hands made popping noises as they set the objects down near Shiroihana, at the edge of her platform. Shiroihana prepared the ink and then wetted the brush.

When she peered at the three men the moment of suspense and confusion hovered, quivering, almost tangible, as if it were a frightened pet that Shiroihana could stroke and pacify with a loving touch. When she was certain the brush would not drip, Shiroihana raised it and motioned to Sesshomaru. "Brother. I require your signature on my will."

"Your will?" Shinkumaru and Inutaisho repeated incredulously.

Shiroihana ignored them as Sesshomaru rose and moved onto the platform, graciously accepting the brush, bowing and murmuring in thanks. He knelt beside her while Shiroihana maneuvered the parchment and the writing table into position. Sesshomaru's eyes flicked rapidly, reading the script.

"I trust it is to your liking?" Shiroihana asked.

Sesshomaru nodded. "Yes, my Queen. There is only one suggestion I would make—that Father should sign it as well. It should have a proper witness."

"Very well," Shiroihana said. She touched her brother's right arm with the brush in it. "Sign." As he moved to do so, she faced her father and said, "Lord Shinkumaru, please, come and join us."

He did so, hurriedly, almost clumsily in his curiosity. He sat on the other side of Sesshomaru and began to read, his lips moving faintly as the words sank in on him. His face darkened into a fierce shade of red. The skin was actually blotchy, red overall but with tiny spots of white. It was impossible to mistake his emotion. He was enraged.

He glared at Shiroihana and demanded, "What is the meaning of this?"

Sesshomaru had signed it and sat back, silent and with a bland, uncaring demeanor. He ignored Shinkumaru's yelling entirely.

Sitting neglected on the floor of the summer audience room, Inutaisho was scowling. To hid credit he had said nothing, merely waiting.

Shiroihana was watching him. Their eyes met, gold on gold, like two hawks or two wolves, each eyeing the same prey and coveting it. Would they fight to the death? It would not be an easy battle, Shiroihana thought, but it would be spectacular. _Are you happy Mother? I am being most ruthless. _

"Daughter!" Shinkumaru shouted, outraged that she and Sesshomaru had no reaction to his demands. "What the _hell_ is this?"

Shiroihana did not stop staring at Inutaisho to answer her father. "It is my will, Lord Shinkumaru. And there is no reason for you to be upset enough to break the peace of this audience room. If you speak like that again I will have you sent out."

Shinkumaru was shaking with rage. Shiroihana watched him out of the corner of her eye. She thought of the night she had sat in the place of the Queen, waiting for her mother; ready to fight Samidare to the death. In other lands and other families, a daughter who spoke to her father as Shiroihana just had would be cause enough for him to lop off her head. She had reprimanded him as if he were a spoiled child who needed to be sent off to his room.

"Have you lost your senses? Have you forgotten who and what you are?" Shinkumaru shouted. "Your mother would have _killed_ you for this transgression! You are supposed to be the Queen. A Queen does not name any man—even her brother—as an heir!"

Out on the floor, Inutaisho snorted and laughed to himself. He spoke in Chinese, drawing everyone's attention. _"So Queen Shiroihana has constructed an improper line of succession! I wonder why she would do this? Is it because she fears me?"_

"The language of this palace is Japanese," Shiroihana replied, coolly. "Speak it or I will ask you to leave as well."

Inutaisho scowled. His face reddened but he controlled himself much better than Shinkumaru had. Shiroihana examined him warily, wishing that he had lost his control.

"_You're afraid of me,"_ Inutaisho observed, matching Shiroihana's cold calm. He had ignored her demands that he speak Japanese, using Chinese anyway.

"You are fully capable of speaking Japanese," Shiroihana said, challenging him. "Speak it or leave this room."

"You vowed," Inutaisho growled. He had submitted, speaking Japanese.

Shiroihana smiled, feeling that she had pinned him, held him clutched in her fist. _I can control him. There is nothing to fear from him._

"You cannot name Sesshomaru as your heir!" Shinkumaru snarled. He had stalked up close to her and spoke directly into her ear. The words were barely understandable, slurred in his rage. "You are not fit to be Queen if you do this!"

Shiroihana clenched her fist and turned on him, striking him in the face. Shinkumaru gasped and then his face twisted in a vicious snarl. He lunged at her but Shiroihana was ready for him. She did not even change her sitting position, merely moved her hand, flicking her wrist. A green light lit the room; a snap shattered the air, making Inutaisho and Sesshomaru flinch.

Shinkumaru had not reached her in his lunge. Shiroihana's green spectral whip had encircled his neck like a snake or a hangman's noose. He gurgled and choked, clawing at it. Shiroihana released it only after a moment, but already there was a scent of scorched flesh, of acrid, acidic poison. Shinkumaru fell flat on the platform, unable to support himself with only one arm.

A stab of shame passed through Shiroihana's heart. She had always loved her father, but—she needed to be ruthless. Needed to protect herself and Sesshomaru. The shame sprang mostly from the fact that he was now a cripple, and much older in basic appearance and strength than she had ever recalled seeing him. Fatigue batted at her, wearing her down, but Shiroihana buried it. This was not the welcome home she had wanted, but it was what was necessary.

Sesshomaru's face was stony as he handed the brush back to her and bowed, whispering his thanks and his allegiance before moving cautiously to help their father up from the floor.

When Shiroihana glanced back to Inutaisho, she saw that he had been watching her intently. Brief snatches of alarm crossed him, but otherwise she detected no outrage, no sign that he had intended to stop her from attacking her father or from naming her brother as her heir. He was tense but unmoving, merely watchful.

Inside her sleeves, Shiroihana's hands flexed, ready to set loose the whip again. She addressed Inutaisho in Chinese, _"I am not afraid of anyone."_

She had expected displeasure, a scowl, a frown, a snarl. Instead Inutaisho's eyes crinkled with pleasure. He smiled, openmouthed, showing all of his white, pointed teeth, sharp as needles. _"Neither am I, Queen Shiroihana."_ He cocked his head, smirking. _"What an impressive weapon you have. I wonder if our son will have it as well."_

It was an unexpected response and Shiroihana could not stop herself from blinking, but her sharp wit caught up soon enough. _"No, but our daughters will."_

_

* * *

  
_

Shiroihana's will was signed properly and put away into storage, hopefully never to be enacted. The day after Shinkumaru and Sesshomaru had returned, Inutaisho and Shiroihana underwent a short betrothal ceremony. Inutaisho offered a gift of a rich, silken night robe, ornately embroidered with a twilight scene of ocean beach. On the sleeves and at the bottom hem there were characters spelling out the Tengai lands and the Okou. Shiroihana wondered if it had been his mother's or if he had managed to steal it after the panthers had already plundered it from the dead.

After the ceremony Inutaisho left to settle and resolve the Tengai. The wedding was planned for the early fall, only a matter of weeks away.

* * *

Endnote: I like cried while putting together Shiroihana's talk with her brother. I don't know what it is, but in my writing I often find sibling relationships to be the most touching and poignant. Simply beautiful. Also between mothers and children. Just off the top of my head from fanfiction stories, not to mention my own novels: Shimofuri/Tsukiyume. Kasai/Masuyo. Koinu/Akisame. Strangely enough, I don't have a brother, only sisters, but my fiancé and his sister have a strange, complex relationship between them, and I am always curious at it. He can be so protective of her, though outwardly they are so different, so opposite, they should hate each other. Yet I see loyalty in him (I don't know her that well) and admire it. So I guess I have a big respect for good brothers. In my own novels there are several: Kyro/Ashira (little bro, big sister who basically raised him). Yutsuko/Kashio (big bro, little sister, estranged and then reconnected. A complex, difficult bond). Ah, familial relationships. Maybe I am recalling some sweet brother I had in a previous life, eh?

On a super sad note and such: December 13, 2009 was a weird night. First my little sister rammed our four wheel car into a snow bank after breezing thru a stop sign. And she has acted just weird about it, not talking, not crying. She damaged the car, possibly severely, but is so aloof and unaffected. Just, weird. Wrong. Secondly the season finale of Dexter was on and was possibly the SADDEST THING I have EVER seen. Haunting but sickly poetic (if you watch the show you know what I mean). "Born in blood."


	6. Three Men and a Queen

A/N: You know what? Characterizing Inutaisho, legend, warrior, husband, lover and father, is HARD! I thought _should he be like Sess?_ Then thought NO! Sess is like his mother. Unquestionably. Who saw the new _Inuyasha the Final Act _series with the episode _Sessshomaru in the Underworld_? If you've seen it, you've seen his mother. I read the manga for that, studied and took notes when I first started writing Shiroihana in _Return_ and _Innocence._ Several times it's said, "Mother and son are a lot alike." I'm sticking to that. But in that case, what _was_ Inutaisho like?? I've settled on a gruffer, louder, ruder personality. The personality of a bastard. So expect him to behave slightly more like Inuyasha, except Inuyasha had a far different experience as a hanyou too. He grew up amongst humans, learned bravado, snarling and showing off to keep himself safe. Inutaisho learned deception, intrigue. One thing they will share in common is that initial impressions of them may be that they are dumb brutes. But they both hide depth to survive, the difference being that Inutaisho takes it to greater lengths and knows (he has a lot more experience than Inuyasha) when to let the mask slip and show either another mask or the truth.

In her beginning section, Shiroihana gets a little passionate. She's also leaving gaps, circling tragedy. I think many of you are guessing what it is by now. After her story is finished I encourage you to go back and read her blurbs with a new eye. You might catch her lying, hinting, or the truth between the lines a lot more. She's lying a bit in parts of the section below. Or at least telling us her view of events as she sees them.

Disclaimer:

Last Chapter: Shiroihana met Koshoshiro briefly on the battlefield and felt very uncertain about marrying the Dog General. She met with Sesshomaru and he told her some frightening details and hinted, without saying it aloud, that he thought Inutaisho was just after their lands and would kill her as soon as they were married. To prevent him from taking over, Shiroihana left secretly and went back to the Kosetsu to put together her will naming Sesshomaru her heir and after him his daughters. Some of her concern over Inutaisho eased when he wrote to her in the few months before the war ended. Also Shiroihana searched the records until she thought she finally found the truth. Inutaisho was lying, he's not the bastard pup of a man or leader of the Okou clan, but a bastard of one of its daughters. No royal father, no bloodline. But to Shiroihana that isn't as big a deal as it would be outside the Kosetsu. In the Kosetsu a woman's pups are _more_ of the bloodline than a man's typically. When Inutaisho, Shinkumaru, and Sesshomaru returned from the war, Shiroihana revealed her will and her father just about attacked her in rage when she had Sess sign it. Inutaisho stayed calm and teased her. The marriage and betrothal were set.

* * *

_Brother and Sister _by David Herbert Lawrence (stanzas 2 and 5)

Some day they see, though I have never seen,  
The dead moon heaped within the new moon's arms;  
For surely the fragile, fine young thing had been  
Too heavily burdened to mount the heavens so.  
But my heart stands still, as a new, strong dread alarms  
Me; might a young girl be heaped with such shadow of woe?

We may not cry to her still to sustain us here,  
We may not hold her shadow back from the dark.  
Oh, let us here forget, let us take the sheer  
Unknown that lies before us, bearing the ark  
Of the covenant onwards where she cannot go.  
Let us rise and leave her now, she will never know.

* * *

Shiroihana

I have said I am a male-spirit in a female body. The male-spirit is destructive, chaotic, and drawn to violence. I have never shied from violence. I am inuyoukai. I have the teeth and claws of a predator. I crave blood rich meat, raw and chilled. Hot tea makes me gag. Spicy foods overwhelm me. But all inuyoukai are so. My mother would have waited for her tea to cool before sipping it. My mother would not have eaten spicy food, and my mother did not shy from violence, from shows of her strength. If she had been under enough threat she would have killed to protect herself, her birthright as Queen. It did not matter to her who threatened her, nor how they did it.

My mother would have killed me as an infant if I were unfit to replace her. She would have torn my throat out if I attempted to overthrow her from power before my time. The same would have been true for my father. So tell me, is the male-spirit so different from the female-spirit? Or perhaps I am not alone. Perhaps all of my forebears, all of the great Queens, carried male-spirits within them.

Of course there is something different within myself. There must be, because I have broken the line of strong, unflinching Queens. Twice I named a male heir to follow me. No other Queen had ever done so. She trusted in Fate and the balance that she would bear a daughter before her death, or she would wait until a sister, a brother, or a cousin birthed a suitable daughter that she could adopt. Many Queens have done this, to the point of robbing newborn pups from their real mothers, dragging the daughter screaming from her reluctant true mother. The genealogy of the Queens is a long list of difficult decisions, of loss and desperation. It is also filled with death. The deaths of sons and husbands who longed for power and threatened Queen mothers and Princess sisters. The deaths of rival daughters, bickering over power. Of nieces vying for their Queen aunt's attention.

We are very much like the male-ruled clans, except there are more enemies to contend with. A clan such as the Okou, who thinks nothing of its daughters and trains them to think likewise, cannot be threatened by its females. Only by its sons, uncles, male cousins, and nephews. In the Kosetsu a Queen's entire family is a threat. Males and females alike.

Perhaps I was the first Queen who refused to think in such a way. Perhaps that is what separates me from my forebears. I was unwilling to slaughter family when I could manipulate and control them. I thought this would work, but Inutaisho was a manipulator just as I was. Our plans did not mesh out together. If I had been a true Queen I would have torn out his throat when I discovered the truth. Instead I turned my back on my mother, on all the Queens before me, and embraced the unknown.

I was embracing my husband and my son. A true Queen would have killed both and cast outward again, seeking a new start, a different husband to give her heiresses. But I am the Queen who succeeded in failing. I am the Queen whose male-spirit and female body could not reconcile.

The outside world has looked in on my story, on its raw events, and judged that I made the correct decision, that Heaven favored me. Heaven gave me the Western Lands and made me its mother. Heaven sent a strong mate to father a stronger son. Through the loss of the Kosetsu, I gained a prince, a fine little creature who suckled at my breasts and grew stronger and more beautiful every day. Perhaps even _you_ would say that I have won. Though I failed, I won. I endured no punishment, only success. I chose correctly.

But you would be wrong. I was punished dearly. I am still being punished. Sons do not love their mothers beyond a certain age. Though I spared my son, I gave in and forced myself to a life alone, without daughters. And as for my son? My Sesshomaru? Sesshomaru does not love me, but his ungratefulness to his mother is not something I can fault him for. I believe he remembers. He remembers my failure. It is in his blood, in his dreams. He knows that I failed him, that in the final moment, I was indecisive. I could not choose between—

This is not a confession. I do not say his name. My son does not know. Cannot possibly know. But I see it in his eyes. I see them calling me _traitor, traitor. _I saw that he could not love his father, but could not love me either as he grew. I miss him. It is in this way that I am punished.

Punished every day as no mother should have to endure.

* * *

**Three Men and a Queen**

The marriage came swiftly. It took place within the Kagetsu palace. It was the first time that Shiroihana had seen Inutaisho out of armor. Her father and brother escorted her, one merely representing her family and clan—Sesshomaru—the other acting as her elder.

Inutaisho had no one to represent him, none to escort him. Traditionally some elder relative would have gone through the very formal ceremony with him, even if his father was dead. It could have even been a mother or a grandmother, not a male relative at all. Still, Inutaisho had no one. Shiroihana almost pitied him, but it did not seem to bother Inutaisho. He had apparently been a singular being his entire life. Why should his marriage be any different?

They sipped the three sake cups. First Shiroihana, then Inutaisho. Inutaisho's full attention was on Shiroihana. There was no one else in his world. For Shiroihana there were distractions everywhere. Koshoshiro attended the wedding as an ally, bringing with him Nishiyori of the Middle Lands. Others were there too, distant relations, notable kitsune youkai from the Kosetsu, bears, and even a leader of a powerful wolf tribe. They did not stay very long once the ceremony had finished. Most of the other youkai filtered out, stopping to bow and congratulate the couple—especially Inutaisho it seemed—on the fine match. Shiroihana realized gradually that these other youkai were not loyal to her or the Kosetsu, but to Inutaisho and the Tengai.

The inuyoukai stayed longer. Koshoshiro spent some time exchanging pleasantries and smiling happily at the couple. His eyes lingered on Shiroihana and the fire leapt between them, making Shiroihana uncomfortable and self-conscious, but Inutaisho appeared not to notice. He had brought a gift for them, or rather, for Inutaisho. It was carried inside a large, decorative box, hauled about by the same wolf youkai general that Shiroihana had seen long ago while negotiating the alliance that would bring Koshoshiro's warriors in to help her parents fight the panthers.

"General," Shiroihana greeted him with warmth. "I am pleased to see you again!"

"Agreed," the wolf barked. He hefted with a grunt and Koshoshiro at his side motioned to the box.

"I have had this made for Lord Inutaisho. It matches a gift that I gave Queen Shiroihana several years ago." His gaze jumped to Shiroihana and narrowed with mirth and memory.

Shiroihana knew at once what he was talking about: the fluffy fur boa that she had often worn around her shoulders, sewn onto the tops of her robes. In her formal wedding regalia she was not currently wearing it, but could feel its silky, soft texture against her fingers by memory. Her face blushed and she cleared her throat nervously. "Ah," she murmured and peered out the corner of her eye to Inutaisho standing beside her. "My husband will like it very much I am sure."

She wasn't sure. Inutaisho had never shown a liking for softness, for anything but strength, power, and the fine act of intimidation. As far as Shiroihana knew, Inutaisho had never read a classic work of literature, never learned to compose proper poetry, had not even learned etiquette or how to properly fight without a sword.

Inutaisho was smiling, but it was tight-lipped. "Open it then," he ordered.

The wolf hefted the box again and Koshoshiro slid the lock—more for display than practicality—and opened it. Inside, curled and enormous as a python, was another white fluffy boa of luxurious fur. Shiroihana, the wolf, and Koshoshiro were all watching Inutaisho carefully. His mouth opened and he cocked his head, apparently perplexed.

"What is this?" he asked, not insulted, but truly confused. He cleared his throat and reached out to touch it, snatching it out of the box, bringing it to his nose to inhale, sniffing loudly. He pulled it away a moment later and frowned. "It does not smell as…like—it does not smell like—"

The next word that he uttered made all of them cringe.

"My lord?" Koshoshiro asked.

Shiroihana understood before Koshoshiro and the wolf did. Inutaisho had just spoken a word or two in another language. Not Chinese, but something different that was foreign to her. As the knowledge hit her, Shiroihana tried to appear unflustered, but she felt Inutaisho watching her covertly and felt that he had uttered it deliberately, testing her. He knew she hadn't understood the language.

"There is a beast. In the north," Inutaisho explained. "It has white fur as—like this. A white bear." He chuckled. "I wrestled with a youkai of that kind. In my real form." He grinned, his fangs glinting sharply. "His blood was salty as the sea."

Shiroihana buried her reaction of disgust, suspicious that Inutaisho was testing her with it, trying to see her squirm. It was improper for him to go on about this foreign animal or foreign youkai while Koshoshiro and the wolf were waiting for him to accept the gift, to thank them and send them on their way or begin some useful conversation. Inutaisho instead spoke like a teenager, playful and deriving great innocent joy from his own strength.

"I'm afraid I have never heard of this white bear, but I can assure Lord Inutaisho that this is not made from its fur." Koshoshiro had recovered any surprise at Inutaisho's uncouth remarks. A small polite smile was plastered over his lips. Shiroihana did not think the warmth in his eyes was feigned.

Inutaisho took the rest of the boa out and weighed it bundled in his arms with surprising gentleness, almost the same way he might have held a young pup. Without looking away from it, he asked Shiroihana, "Lord Koshoshiro gave you one like this?"

Shiroihana nodded but did not speak. Her body was taut, her throat tight with nervousness. She was frantic for Koshoshiro to leave. Inutaisho and Koshoshiro had interacted in the war of course and had a previous relationship, there was nothing untoward with his gift to the husband and Samidare's top general. Even so, his presence was unnerving, disturbing. Shiroihana was not sure she could trust herself or Koshoshiro to do nothing to tip Inutaisho's suspicions. Inutaisho had been able to deceive others into thinking him nothing but a brainless warrior, but Shiroihana knew otherwise even after so short a time with him. He was clever, conniving even. And ambitious. If he knew that his new wife had had a previous lover and was still closely allied with him politically and in friendship, Shiroihana could not guess how he would react. It could be reason enough for him to decide to kill her as Sesshomaru had thought he would.

Inutaisho sniffed at the pelt again and then smiled, closed-lipped but genuine. He looked up at Koshoshiro and the wolf. "Thank you! This is a lovely gift! I will wear it often."

Koshoshiro and the wolf bowed and a short time later left, much to Shiroihana's relief.

The evening was drawing nearer. Soon Shiroihana would find herself alone with Inutaisho for the first time. The thought of consummating the marriage filled her with trepidation and excitement alike. Was it possible that he would know by her behavior or appearance that she was not the optimal virgin she should be? Would he care if he could tell?

At long last it was only the Kosetsu family and Inutaisho that remained in the palace. As night fell, Inutaisho's demeanor changed. Shiroihana recognized anxiousness, impatience. He moved around rooms, leaving her blessedly alone with her brother or the maids and servants. Shiroihana had a gecko follow him covertly, watching over him. The gecko returned after an hour to report that Inutaisho was only pacing, though he often returned to the bedrooms, peering into them and sniffing loudly. He had also gone back to the summer audience room where many of the gifts from the wedding were stored, as yet undigested by the busy monkeys and geckos.

After this report, and after the maids, monkey and gecko alike had left, Sesshomaru whispered to her, "He is securing the grounds."

"Indeed," Shiroihana murmured. Her brother had behaved admirably throughout the wedding. His presence continually reassured Shiroihana. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of her brother's aura, his powerful and friendly scent. She had changed out of her formal wedding robes and wore simpler, thin night robes. She had brought out Koshoshiro's fur boa as well and wrapped it about her shoulders. Shiroihana stroked it in the brief silence between Sesshomaru's whispers.

"His possessions are in there as well. Some of them anyway." They were drinking chilled tea in a large heavily decorated room designed for just that purpose. A long table filled the room, encircled by seat cushions.

"Not all of them," Shiroihana said. She opened her eyes and peered at her brother carefully. "What are you thinking, Brother?"

Sesshomaru leaned forward slightly and lowered his eyes. "Queen Shiroihana recalls that our mother believed Lord Inutaisho could speak to the dead."

This was an interesting detail that Shiroihana had yet to glean any truth or meaning from yet. She nodded. "Yes."

"He does not possess the ability without a tool, a trinket." Sesshomaru sat back, frowning lightly. Footsteps echoed in the hall. The tread and scent that preceded it revealed that the approaching inuyoukai was their father. "Queen Shiroihana was most beautiful at her wedding," Sesshomaru announced in a booming voice. "None who saw her this day will forget her loveliness."

Shinkumaru entered the room at that moment, sliding the door open with a crack. Shiroihana and Sesshomaru tensed as one. Shiroihana turned her head and glared. The family dynamic had not changed or repaired since Shinkumaru had tried to attack his daughter for announcing Sesshomaru as her heir. The burns from his daughter's poison and whip had faded, but his rage had not.

He paused in the doorway, observing them with a cold, angry stare.

"Father—it is good of you to join us," Shiroihana said, speaking formally and with respect. She did not like the growing dislike she had seen and sensed brewing in her father and had made an effort to be friendly with him, but Shinkumaru did not reciprocate.

Shinkumaru snorted loudly, like a bull about to charge. He strode into the room. Each step was stiff legged and spoke of restrained rage, or of a coiled snake about to snap.

Sesshomaru moved slightly, a quiet but aggressive motion. His hand fell over the hilt of the small blade at his waist. He had worn it in the wedding for ceremonial purpose. Men were rarely unarmed, inuyoukai or human alike. Indoors they wore shorter swords, more like daggers. For the first time, Shiroihana realized that her brother had not kept the ceremonial, dull indoor blade on his hip from the wedding. When he had changed his clothing he had also donned a real sword, as if he expected trouble.

Sesshomaru's movement jammed his hip into the table. He had been sitting at the corner of it, closer to the door, and as Shinkumaru entered he turned to face their father with his hand on the hilt of a real sword, ready to draw it and slice their father in half. His position was a defensive one. His movement had brought him into Shiroihana's line of view, blocking her from their father.

Shiroihana smiled with pride. _My bodyguard…_

Shinkumaru halted. His face was mottled red and white with rage. "Sesshomaru," he hissed. "What is the meaning of this?!"

"You have already attempted to attack the Queen once," Sesshomaru reminded him. He was glaring and Shinkumaru and he had not bothered to use formal language at all. It was a heavy insult.

Shinkumaru's shoulders shuddered, his body quivered. His gaze flew past Sesshomaru to Shiroihana and narrowed with hate. He curled his lips in a snarl. "Your mother would strike you both down!"

"Mother would have killed you already," Shiroihana murmured, coldly.

"She would never approve of this union between you two," Shinkumaru snarled.

"She should have thought more on the union with Lord Inutaisho," Sesshomaru interjected. His voice was thick with anger.

"There is no reason for your behavior," Shinkumaru murmured, lowering his volume, appearing abruptly reasonable. "Lord Inutaisho has the Tengai. Sesshomaru, you resist him because you are reckless with youth, maddened with bloodlust. You would have us wage war and destroy the Okou clan all over again just to claim the Tengai for yourself! And Shiroihana—Daughter…"

Shiroihana opened her mouth to correct him, to force him to call her _Queen_, but the plaintive, almost begging tone her father had taken touched her, keeping her silent.

"There is none better than your husband. None more honorable or worthy of you. Your daughters will be magnificent, breathtaking Queens. Your sons will rule the Tengai and be greater than their father." Shinkumaru was breathless, his eyes bright but narrow with continued rage and hate. "How dare you both doubt Queen Samidare's plans? How _dare_ you go against the line of Queens…" For a brief moment Shiroihana thought their father would burst into tears.

"You have gone mad with grief," Sesshomaru murmured.

Shiroihana stared at her brother's broad back, his powerful shoulders, his tense, battle ready posture. Shinkumaru's view of the future did not incorporate Sesshomaru in any way at all. Sesshomaru was a waste, he was a mistake. Shiroihana did not believe it.

"No," Shinkumaru barked, "it is both of you who have gone mad." He sniffed loudly and growled, glaring with fresh rage at Shiroihana. He sat suddenly on the cushion beside Sesshomaru, startling both his children, and reached with one hand around his son toward Shiroihana.

Sesshomaru cried out, shouting at his father in alarm. He drew his sword, it rang metallically. Shiroihana jumped back from the table but crashed into the wall with a yelp of surprise. The screens cracked, little bits of wood and gold paint sprinkled down on Shiroihana's hair.

The moment of panic was over swiftly. Both Sesshomaru and Shiroihana had thought Shinkumaru was after Shiroihana, ready to gut her where she sat. Instead he had only snatched her cup of tea and knocked it over, spilling it onto the wooden table. It rolled away and at once began to dribble on the floor, on Shiroihana's cushion. A strong scent of herbs entered the air.

"You _have_ gone mad!" Shiroihana shouted, baring her teeth. "I will have you banished…"

Shinkumaru snorted. His face twisted with disgust. He ignored Shiroihana and looked to Sesshomaru. "Did you ask your sister to drink this tea? Have you and she plotted to make her appear barren to her husband?"

"You're mad," Sesshomaru muttered, confused by his father's questions.

Behind him, Shiroihana's face colored. Sesshomaru did not know that she had infused her tea with the herbs to prevent a heat, to prevent pregnancy. She did not intend to conceive at once. Pregnancy would weaken her; fill her with compassion and fondness. She feared being unable to protect herself or her brother while she was weighed down with a child, with the powerful emotions of motherhood. After all, if she adored her pups by Inutaisho, it would be only natural that she would begin to love their father. She had not thought that Shinkumaru knew about the herbs.

"Do you know," Shinkumaru snarled, glaring at his son. "I pleaded, begged your mother to carry you, Sesshomaru. You were not our first son. Not our second. The herbs, the scent of the damned herbs…"

"What is this nonsense?" Sesshomaru snapped, alarmed.

"It was an honorable match for me. For the last son with nothing to inherit to marry a Queen. An honor and a curse," Shinkumaru spat, bitterly. "Now there is only curse. Sesshomaru, I pleaded for you. My Queen did not want you, knew in her heart you would betray her, betray your ancestors through and through." He began to cry, small, thin teardrops spilling out of his eyes. "Now the son I begged for is ready to kill me…"

Sesshomaru's hand had left his sword. He was stiff and silent, troubled.

Shiroihana shifted uncomfortably and rose to her feet. "This is none of my affair." Her face was hot, burning red. Neither her brother or father looked up at her as she left them, walking fast from the room, breathing hard with distress. She had always suspected that Samidare had not wanted a son, would have rather washed him from her womb in blood, but she had not known that so many sons came to that fate. She had not realized how much she had to thank her father for. His missing arm, the empty sleeve, and her attack with him using her whip seemed like a terrible, bewildering betrayal.

She found the doors to one of the open air terraces of the palace standing wide open and walked out into the thick night air, dense with mist. Shiroihana moved swift and soundless over the floor. She tapped her claws on the carved wood of the railings just to fill the world with some sound. Then, suddenly, a steady thump reached her and Shiroihana halted, scenting and feeling a male presence rushing at her.

It was Inutaisho. His hair was long and as white and thick as the night mists. His golden eyes were dark but burning, lit from within. He called out to her before she could see his shadow emerging through the fog. "Trouble there is. Trouble."

The words were backwards. Shiroihana could not stop herself from chuckling nervously.

"Speak dammit!" Inutaisho growled, closing the distance between them before she could blink. He slipped into Chinese. _"I heard shouts but this place is a maze. Talk to me."_

"My father and my brother are fighting in the tearoom," Shiroihana told him, sighing. "But it has calmed down."

"We will settle it," Inutaisho told her and took her hand, tugging her along behind him for some distance before Shiroihana managed to free herself. They had reached the doors leading back inside, out of the terrace. Inutaisho turned at the threshold when Shiroihana pulled her hand free. His brow furrowed. "What's the matter?"

"It's personal. They should be left alone." She was lying and she desperately hoped he didn't see it. The truth was that she couldn't bear to see her father's wrath, to hear the secrets of past and marriage and Samidare spill out of him. She also could not stand the thought that Sesshomaru would realize that she had been using the same herbs that would have killed him before he was born. _I am making up for Mother's unwillingness, _she thought. _I have made him what no son of the Kosetsu has ever been allowed to be before: an heir. A prince. _

Inutaisho cocked his head, narrowing his gaze. He had seen through her. "Your father is not happy with you and your brother," he said. "You insult yourself he says. You insult me. You insult your clan. Your brother will seek your death."

"Never," Shiroihana snapped, almost yelling. "Perhaps you have never had brothers, never had anyone who loved you, but Sesshomaru loves me. He would never supplant me. He is loyal."

Inutaisho answered in Chinese. _"He is a malcontent." _

Shiroihana snarled at him, baring her teeth, curling her lips. She whispered, "And you are a bastard. A clan less bastard. I know the truth about you. Your mother was Kiremono, Himarugachi's daughter."

Inutaisho stiffened and his face blanked, loosening into a cold but bland look of a dullard. He was hiding insult or shock, perhaps both. He dropped his chin and lowered his voice, speaking in surprisingly perfect Japanese, almost unaccented. "If the child of a daughter has no value even here in this palace then Queen Shiroihana has truly failed Queen Samidare." He paused and then added, "You dishonor your mother. You dishonor your clan."

"By not seeing your worth?" Shiroihana growled. "Why should I when your mother's clan did not?"

Inutaisho inhaled sharply and slipped into Chinese. _"Because your mother would have. Because you are better than the Okou. Because it is Fate."_

"We are as ants to Fate," Shiroihana returned, repeating her mother's expression.

Inutaisho smirked. "Or fleas."

Shiroihana realized in a flash that Samidare had learned that expression from Inutaisho because it had no effect on him at all. She was silent, bested. It was hard to deny his greatness, his intelligence, his strength as a warrior.

Inutaisho took several cautious steps toward her. He was tall and massive, a powerhouse of muscle just as her brother was, but unlike Sesshomaru Inutaisho was tall, taller than Shiroihana's father, taller than Koshoshiro. Shiroihana had a momentary flicker, an image of a younger inuyoukai of the same height but bearing her exact markings, except he had two bands of pink-red on his cheeks, not just one. And there was the moon of the Kosetsu on his forehead…

The image faltered and vanished. Shiroihana blinked and already those features were vanishing, like a sweet dream that dissolves mysteriously back into the mind after one awakens.

Inutaisho was staring down at her grimly. "Why did Queen Shiroihana marry me if she does not see my worth?"

A thousand answers to that question were possible, and not all of them were truthful, but many were also not lies. _Because you are strong. Because you helped win the panther war. Because my mother believed so firmly in it. Because there was no one else. Because I enjoy a challenge. Because you are attractive. _Shiroihana did not know the real reason why. She decided to ignore his question and threaten him instead.

"There is still time for me to renounce you as a bastard," she whispered.

Inutaisho did not appear alarmed. He grinned at her. "And there is still time for me to say you are not a virgin."

Shiroihana stiffened, her breathing halted, but she recovered very quickly. _There is no way he can know._ She feigned outrage. "How dare you! There is nothing to impugn my honor!"

Inutaisho had not stopped grinning. He spoke next in Chinese. _"Do you think I care, Queen Shiroihana? I don't. I am no virgin. I have had virgins before. They are not my favorite. I enjoy a woman who is not afraid to lash out, who will scream when I please her."_

Shiroihana's face and body were suddenly burning with both arousal and an embarrassed horror. _He cannot know. There is no way._ She thought suddenly of Sesshomaru's whispered comment in the tearoom before their father had interrupted. Inutaisho speaks with the dead. The dead see and know all, though getting them to reveal it was notoriously difficult. Was it possible that Inutaisho _did_ know? Or was he simply guessing? She recalled the fox that had acted as Koshoshiro's scribe. Kitsune were never trustworthy, or only rarely anyway. They might spread a false rumor or change details to try and protect someone they cared about, but she doubted that the scribe kitsune had held any details back. It didn't help that Shiroihana could not recall much of the few days she had spent in a sexual haze, blissfully unaware of the rest of the world. The fox scribe could have been sitting outside their room, even peeking into it and watching.

Inutaisho was watching her avidly. He said, _"There is rumor enough to impugn my wife's honor, but there is none for her to use against me. I will deny that I have shared any secret with her."_ He lifted his head and squared his shoulders with pride. "I am the vengeful spirit of the Okou clan. I am the last, forgotten son. Ambassador to the mainland."

Irritation swept over Shiroihana, making her sweat. "Your Japanese improves at surprising times, Husband."

"So it does," Inutaisho purred. He glanced absently over his shoulder, listening for a moment to the interior of the palace. "Your brother and father, should they truly be left alone?"

There had been no unexpected noises, nothing alarming, no scent of spilled blood. Shiroihana nodded. "Leave them alone."

"Good," Inutaisho rumbled, reaching for her with a suddenness that made Shiroihana gasp. His hands slid around her waist. Shiroihana was not surprised in the least with how easily he found the seams and slipped his clawed fingers under her small and simple obi to touch bare flesh. His touch was hungry but patient and calculated. His claws tickled with just enough pressure to tease shudders of pleasure out of her.

The shiver of her shoulders made Inutaisho purr, a deep thrumming in his chest. Shiroihana had only heard that sound from Koshoshiro as he pinned her down, as they both gasped in ecstasy. Inutaisho had to duck to touch his lips to her hair, his mouth to her ear. "Will you reject me?"

"No," she answered, a little startled to hear a resounding purr in her own voice, matching his. She had never planned to turn him away, never planned to avoid consummating their marriage. Someday relatively soon she would even allow herself to become pregnant with his pup.

"I found your room," he chuckled, breathing in her ear. "I like the bed."

The stiffness in Shiroihana's spine relaxed, almost against her will as desire softened her body, released her tension. She had not wanted to be out of control on this first night with a mind-altering heat. She was grateful for Samidare's herbs. The heat would come quickly as soon as she stopped drinking the tea. Inutaisho's powerful male musk would certainly drive her mad.

She leaned into him and felt the hardness of his body through his clothes. "Do you need my help to find it again?" she teased.

Inutaisho growled and his hold on her tightened, changing. He lifted her bodily and Shiroihana yelped with surprise. He stifled the sound by pressing his lips to hers and then nipping at her jaw line, then her neck. His teeth were sharp. "I will manage."

Though it struck her as silly, Shiroihana allowed herself to be carried through the terrace. She watched the hallway and the ceiling from Inutaisho's arms, but his rich, thick scent distracted her. She touched his hair, long and loose, relaxed and flowing. It was smooth, cool, and strong. The blue stripes of color on his cheeks were ragged like lightening, not smooth as her own.

It didn't astonish her that Inutaisho found her bedroom without difficulty. Shiroihana wondered vaguely where her brother and father were, what they were up to. Briefly she even thought with embarrassment that they would try to get away from her room, to avoid the couple consummating their marriage.

Once they were inside the room, closeted away with as much privacy as the flimsy screens would allow, Shiroihana expected that the consummation would be swift, inelegant, hurried, even downright awkward with this inuyoukai man, this brute who she did not love and had not chosen with complete willingness as a husband. But as he had developed a talent for doing, Inutaisho proved her initial suspicion wrong.

In the darkness of the room he was maddeningly gentle and slow, almost ritualistic. Every move was deliberate, as if weighed down by reverence, by respect. The consummation was not about his enjoyment, but hers from the very moment he set her on her bed and backed away to shed his clothing unhurriedly, Shiroihana realized she had been deceived by her preconceptions yet again. She wondered when Inutaisho would run out of tricks and surprises for only a moment before the sight of his naked body stilled her mind and drew an appreciative response from her loins.

When he reached for her, Shiroihana expected his hands to move for her clothes immediately and closed her eyes, inhaling with anticipation. But the surprises had not finished yet. His palms cupped her face tenderly, the thumbs stroking over her cheeks and then her lips. His claws flicked her nose playfully, startling her into blinking at him through the dark.

Inutaisho's teeth glinted slickly. "Is the Queen ready for her stud dog?" he asked, tauntingly. When she growled incoherently in reply he laughed loudly and lowered his mouth to hers.

He was suave and slow as he removed her clothing, loosening and pulling the obi free softly, then sliding his hands under her robe, parting it with ease. He caressed upward on the curve of hip and waist, and then cupped her breasts, holding them appreciatively. "The Queen is a fine bitch," he teased.

"Shut up," Shiroihana barked, half snarling with mounting frustration as he held back. She tugged at his waist and then her hands dove deeper, below the waist. The deep thrumming started in his chest at last and Shiroihana knew she had him.

Inutaisho licked his lips, touching the tip of his tongue to his canines. "I told you I preferred _experienced_ women."

"Shut up," Shiroihana ordered again, unaffected by his taunt this time. She pulled him close to her, guiding him home.

* * *

For three months Shiroihana shared Kagetsu palace with these three men: husband, brother, and father. She watched each one closely, trying to read them. She drank the herbal tea to avoid a heat while she adjusted to Inutaisho, to a life of strange, sometimes uncomfortable companionship.

Lingering worries troubled her about each man. For her father she worried about his emotional instability, of the festering, open wound that lay between father and son, father and daughter. She worried that Shinkumaru would betray her, killing Sesshomaru or herself to right the wrong he perceived against Samidare's spirit.

With Inutaisho she was torn, stretched thin. He always surprised her in some way and though she did not trust him, Shiroihana found she never resisted him intimately and if Inutaisho had had plans of killing her he could have done it with how distracted she was while they were coupling. His body and his clever mind enthralled her. In spite of herself, Shiroihana began to admire him, to desire not just the delicious carnal act between them, but his wittiness, his changing moods, even his teasing and his opinions. During the day she struggled to hold back, to keep Inutaisho out of all of her political affairs, but he often found a way to discuss them with her anyway and seemed content and pleasant as an advisor. She saw no hints or signs that he wished her harm; indeed she saw only the opposite. His golden eyes were always on her, lit from within with admiration and desire. Yet Shiroihana could not set aside her suspicions. To do that was to be truly vulnerable and to betray her brother who maintained in private that Inutaisho was a disaster on their lands, on their clan.

Though she wanted to, Shiroihana never revealed Inutaisho's secrets to Sesshomaru. Even so, she felt he had already come to the same conclusion in his own mind. It did not strain their relationship at first, but as Sesshomaru noted her reserve involving Inutaisho, he began gazing at his sister with hurt in his eyes and obscure resentment. He gave no other sign of it and acted unquestionably loyal, obeying every command and shadowing her whenever he could. Sesshomaru had taken up a place as bodyguard at her side and joined her during political meetings with other youkai and humans of the Kosetsu. He was a constant, silent rock, unflinching and reliable. Shiroihana loved him and drew from his strength and endurance.

Brother and sister were defensive shields, locked against an oncoming rain of arrows. They could withstand and storm.

But as winter approached and the first light snow began falling, Inutaisho announced that he would spend the winter in the Tengai. He had been too long with Shiroihana in the Kosetsu and needed to strengthen and clean up his own lands. Shiroihana was shocked at how his leaving affected her. Though the tenseness of mood in Kagetsu palace eased slightly after he had left, Shiroihana found herself bored, listless. There was solace in her brother, in his relaxed and even playful mood with Inutaisho's absence, but Shiroihana was disturbed by her own feelings.

She was dangerously close to losing caution with Inutaisho. She was too close to loving him. Before he left she hadn't realized how much she enjoyed his odd jokes or even his habit of speaking to her in Chinese. Her bed was cold without him, unbearably lonely. She missed the act of love as much as his simple touch and presence. Since Samidare's death, Shiroihana had been without such physical closeness; mother and daughter had at times bathed together, slept in the same bed, and always shared meals and lessons. Inutaisho fulfilled some deep unnamed need for touch, for contact. Without him Shiroihana felt cold, lonely.

Shiroihana recalled her mother's lectures on male and female spirit. Was this what the female spirit felt like? Was this why the female body carried life? Was this why even the strongest Queen suckled her pups? Shiroihana realized that she craved a child. She had been forbidden to carry and birth Koshoshiro's, but aside from her silly, conceited fears for the Kosetsu clan bloodline—mixing with Inutaisho's unknown, new blood—there was no reason why she should delay having a child. Her dreams that winter in her lonely bed were of cradling a tiny little warm body against her, of little, innocent golden eyes peeking up at her from the depths of warm fuzzy blankets.

Letters came roughly every month from Inutaisho, always written in Chinese. He was curt but often humorous. He did not speak about how things were going for him in the Tengai, even when Shiroihana asked about it directly. She wondered if he considered such questions threatening and rude. Shiroihana stopped asking quickly, unwilling to offend him.

Then, three things happened to alarm her. First, in the dead of winter, Shinkumaru announced that he was going to leave.

"But where will you go?" Shiroihana demanded. She and Sesshomaru were in the tearoom, talking in hushed voices. It was almost a ritual between them, a daily and secretive debriefing.

Shinkumaru was dressed in his armor. His empty sleeve hung at his side. He lifted his chin and glared coldly down at his children. "My time here has ended. I have no further purpose in the Kosetsu. There is no point in staying where I am not wanted."

"Father," Sesshomaru muttered, clearly unhappy.

"I do not ask you," Shinkumaru snarled at him. His purple gaze traveled slowly to his daughter. He ducked his head slightly in a lame bow. "I have no intended place in my mind. I aim never to return."

He was asking permission, Shiroihana realized. She sighed but did not think it over very long. "As your Queen I release you. As your daughter I ask you to go in love and know you are welcome here, Father."

Shinkumaru bowed to her and mumbled hollow thanks. Then he was gone. Shiroihana expected never to see him again. She grilled Sesshomaru over their father's decision, but her brother claimed to know nothing. Shinkumaru had reached his decision on his own.

"Should we have spies follow him?" Sesshomaru asked. "I do not trust him."

"I will not dishonor an old man—our father, our sire." Shiroihana's tone was one of reprimand. "You would have done better to heal the wounds between you both."

Sesshomaru shook his head, dismissing her suggestion. Yet in his eyes there was distinct sadness and his shoulders were heavy. "I understand that I owe him my life." He whispered the last of it, unable to meet Shiroihana's eye. "Mother would never have birthed me if not for him. But he could not forgive me for agreeing to become your heir. He could not see that I only want to protect my sister, my Queen."

Shiroihana reached for his hand and clasped it in hers. "It is much appreciated."

The other events of that winter were smaller, miniscule, but they three doubt on both Sesshomaru and Inutaisho. The first was only a few days after their father had left the palace, again in the tearoom.

"My sister does not take herbs in her tea," Sesshomaru observed blandly.

Shiroihana, disturbed, had stopped with the teacup just touching her lips. She gazed at Sesshomaru over the rim though her brother was not looking at her. She lowered the cup and cleared her throat. "Does this concern Brother?"

Sesshomaru cocked his head at the question. His lips thinned. "My Queen intends to conceive when her husband returns."

It was not a question but Shiroihana treated it as if were. "Yes. There is no reason why I can't have a child now."

Both of them realized there was something odd in the way Shiroihana had said the last word. Sesshomaru's brow furrowed. He looked up at her but Shiroihana pretended to be absorbed by her tea.

"Now?" Sesshomaru asked.

Shiroihana spun the teacup slowly around on its little porcelain plate. She swallowed thickly. There were enough secrets between her and Sesshomaru—the secrets of her husband's past—Shiroihana felt secure in her relationship with her brother to tell him her own personal secrets. It would be a great marker of her trust in him and if she told him nothing now it would rankle him, disturb him. Shiroihana made her decision swiftly.

"During the war while I negotiated with Lord Koshoshiro I was careless," she murmured, unable to stare into his face like the proud Queen she wanted to be.

"There was a child?" Sesshomaru asked, barely breathing. He was greatly alarmed.

Shiroihana felt her face burning and wondered if this had been the right decision. She nodded slowly. "Mother helped me abort it."

Sesshomaru was silent for a long time and then he said, "My Queen should keep drinking the herbs in her tea."

His words robbed her of speech for a moment but Shiroihana had been practicing with keeping her features still, unanimated when someone like Inutaisho or Sesshomaru surprised her. She gave no sign that Sesshomaru had offended or alarmed her in anyway and nodded instead, smiling wanly. "Indeed," she told him.

She did not take the herbs in her tea, but tried to deceive Sesshomaru by wearing a bit of the crushed and ground herbs in her obi so that he would smell them on her and hopefully assume they were in the tea she drank every day. She wondered often why Sesshomaru had said it, and doubt crept into her mind. If she had a daughter with Inutaisho, Sesshomaru would no longer be the next in line for ruling. Did he really resent the thought of losing his position to a niece? Or was it just that he did not want his sister to have Inutaisho's child specifically?

Lastly Shiroihana began hearing rumors from foxes, bears, and wolves that Inutaisho was more than a little busy while he was away. A kitsune messenger who had been a loyal servant throughout the panther war reported that Inutaisho had traveled south and east, skirting around the Kosetsu—but very much outside the Tengai—and uprooted the ruling class of bear youkai there. When the fox said _uprooted_ Shiroihana made him clarify.

"Queen Shiroihana's husband killed the entire family," the kitsune told her, gravely.

Reports of this nature began flooding Shiroihana whenever the weather was good enough that messengers could spill into her audience room. Soon even her most reliable servant, the lowborn inuyoukai messenger Daken, reported Inutaisho's warlike, vicious behavior.

"Queen Shiroihana's husband is a busybody!" he said, smirking with nervousness. "The Tengai lands not stretch many miles inland, away from the sea, south and east. He is redrawing the lines as we speak. The Tengai now rivals the Kosetsu in size, my Queen."

"He has said nothing of this to me," Shiroihana murmured, disturbed. Anger had started hatching out inside her, growing voraciously. _Does he mean to overthrow me? To challenge me?_

"Lord Inutaisho speaks often of Queen Shiroihana with great enthusiasm. He is devoted to her," Daken said.

"Why would he do this? Why not tell me about it?" Shiroihana asked, half-growling to herself in irritation.

"I cannot answer, my Queen."

_He will answer to me,_ she thought viciously. _I will make him._

_

* * *

Endnote: _We have a new six week old Chihuahua puppy named Noel. She is adorable, but I am worrying over her like a mother hen, just because she's so small and because she won't drink. She pees, she eats like a champ, and she sleeps, only cried a little (for some unknown reason)...so I dunno. And she plays real well. I dunno what to think. Anyway...hope all is well.


	7. A Mother Like You

A/N: HELLO!! After my absence I am back. Today is a rather sad day. Recently (before Christmas) we got a little tiny chihuahua puppy. Now at 10 weeks she went to have another round of puppy shots and had an allergic reaction, swelling up and vomiting uncontrollably. Poor baby :,( So now she is doped up on benadryl and sleeping on my bed just behind me as I type. Pray for our little baby! She's so adorable, she was playing with the vet before her shot, and then after the reaction still waggled her tail a little when she saw the vet again. Just outrageously adorable. Needless to say she is a major cause of my absence these past few weeks. Right now my concern is that she get new liquids and food in her. She had a little, but you know, I want her to thrive. She vomited a meal of turkey we got down her. So the last meal was very small.

Anyway, I have multiple chapters on this story complete so there was no reason not to update, but also there wasn't much incentive to update because apparently no one likes this story since I get almost no reviews. I am a selfish review whore too, remember. Anyway, enough whining.

Disclaimer: I do not own them.

Last Chapter: Shiroihana and Inutaisho were married. Shinkumaru faced off with his kids and revealed that Samidare would never have had Sess if not for Shinkumaru's intervention. Shiroihana and Inutaisho consummated their marriage and reluctantly bonded for 3 months. Then he left for his own lands in the Tengai along the coast. During the winter Shinkumaru left with Shiroihana's permission, ostensibly never to return. Sess suggested that Shiroihana keep drinking the herbal tea so she would not conceive, but why he asked her to do that is up in the air. Shiroihana also told him her secret aborted child with Koshoshiro. And finally messengers reported that Inutaisho has been on a rampage in the lands surrounding the Tengai and the Kosetsu, expanding his own territory, the Okou's territory, until it is about the same size as the Kosetsu. Shiroihana had no idea he was doing this and still has no idea why.

* * *

_Moon_ by Annie Finch

Then are you the dense everywhere that moves,  
the dark matter they haven't yet walked through?

No, I'm not. I'm just the shining sun,  
sometimes covered up by the darkness.

But in your beauty—yes, I know you see—  
There is no covering, no constant light.

* * *

Shiroihana

My son rules the Western Lands. That name is not accurate. These islands do not have a particularly western point. They are vertical islands, there is only north and south. Then where does this name come from?

The Kosetsu is located near the western coast of Japan and the Tengai, the ancestral lands of the Okou, from whom Inutaisho hailed, are right along the curving western coastline. The name is derived from those locations. In the beginning it was from the Kosetsu and the Tengai that the lands spread after the panther war. Yet in spite of their misleading name, the Western Lands are located in a stretch from western coast to eastern, and deep into the south of the main body of Honshu.

Of course the Western Lands did not come together easily. My son had little to do with it, though he has lifted his sword and used his strength to defend it on more than one occasion. The male spirit only understands brutality and force, strict coercion to achieve his aims. The female spirit is able to use other, unobtrusive means. It is more painful to have one's beloved son or daughter taken away as a hostage indefinitely than to face the blade and lose a limb. I would have traded my life to protect my son from such a fate, but it is not in me as a Queen to feel pity and spare the families of those who threaten me.

Inutaisho began the union of the little individual territories that would eventually make up the Western Lands. Many of these territories had not taken part in the battle with the panthers, or they had and had been wiped out and then their greedy neighbors swooped in and took over like filthy vultures. Initially my clan and my family intended to take the Tengai as such a prize, but we had to fight to protect it, and Inutaisho rose to claim it from us for the right of his ancestors. It was not wrong of my clan to make such a plan, but after my marriage to Inutaisho, I was at first unhappy as he began claiming more territory, adding to the ancestral Tengai that he had inherited.

Of course my male spirit overcame the weakness of the female body. I was a Queen and claiming new lands, new riches, to add to what we already possessed had always been part of the plan. What decent ruler, male or female, passes such an opportunity? I did not oppose my husband aloud and soon his plan became my own. Unlike Inutaisho, who would have gone on killing to claim land, I chose diplomacy. The Western Lands are not known for forming in bloodshed. They are known for stability and peace.

This is entirely my doing. If Inutaisho had been left to his own devices, there would have been nothing but embittered war. With my help, however, the lands quickly prospered and fell in line with each other, under our shared influence, under our balance.

We made a new world for our son. For _my_ son.

* * *

**A Mother Like You**

When spring arrived on the calendar the snow had already melted. Mild seasons were promised by fortune tellers and star-readers. Shiroihana did not waste time writing to Inutaisho, but instead sent Daken directly, carrying orders that Inutaisho return to his wife in the Kosetsu. Shiroihana had two reasons for asking his return though she only had Daken ask using one of them.

In the week or more that it took before Daken and Inutaisho returned together, Shiroihana consulted with her brother and privately decided to approach Inutaisho intimately, one on one. As a Queen, or as another ruler controlling a minion or rebellious spouse, Shiroihana should have met Inutaisho openly with her anger, right after she greeted him in her audience room with all the usual courtesies and ceremonial exchanges to welcome him. It would be like the embrace of a parent upon seeing a child who has been away, and then the quick slap for rumors of misbehavior or poor reports from his or her teachers. But Shiroihana chose to approach him tactfully, to surprise him.

Sesshomaru was more interested in hearing what Inutaisho had to say outright, but Shiroihana was not interested in picking a fight, only disarming her husband, learning the truth. She felt she stood the best chance of doing that while he was relaxed, unguarded, not expecting a threat of any kind.

The initial greetings between everyone went well, uneventful. Sesshomaru was silent and filled with disapproval; Daken flattered Shiroihana and snickered, wearing his nervous smirk throughout. Inutaisho spoke with steadier and clearer Japanese, not slipping into any Chinese to communicate better and he even avoided mixing words or stringing them together incorrectly. All went according to plan; no one mentioned Inutaisho's bizarre behavior, the slaughter of ruling families in tiny territories surrounding the Tengai.

Inwardly impatient, for multiple reasons, Shiroihana ended the audience quickly. Individuals scattered. Sesshomaru beat a hasty retreat, Daken left to wander about the grounds outside, on the side of the mountain, in the pine forest. Shiroihana walked lackadaisically through the hallways with bedrooms. She did not have to feign disinterest in Inutaisho for long before he was following her, trailing her like a hunter. Shiroihana was not truly alarmed; Inutaisho had followed her like a stalking predator before, intent on catching her in his arms. It was arousing, but after his long absence and strange behavior, Shiroihana was uneasy.

She halted in front of one of the many empty, echoing rooms. She had dressed in more elaborate robes than her usual daily attire for the express purpose of welcoming her husband back to Kagetsu. Part of the regalia was a golden fan with specks of shiny, metallic red paint. Shiroihana turned to face Inutaisho obliquely and flicked the fan open. It was not hot, but she went through the motions of fanning herself while she pretended not to notice Inutaisho standing at the edge of the hall, watching her.

She had ordered Daken to tell Inutaisho that she only wanted him to return for the express purpose of conceiving a child. She knew that he would be all-too willing to help her in such an endeavor. But for Shiroihana it was only one thing to do on a long list.

"Why does my husband follow me like a starving dog?" she asked, teasing as the fan clicked and clinked in her hand. "He must come out and walk with me like a real person, not as a ghost."

Inutaisho began walking, upright and alert but smiling. "Where is your father?"

Somehow she thought he already knew but buried the suspicion to play dumb. "I sent Lord Shinkumaru away."

Inutaisho had crossed the long distance between them, moving at a fast, long legged gait. His white hair had been tied back for traveling. His armor clanked in a satisfying noise that seemed to tickle Shiroihana's ears. She hid her smiling lips behind the fan, unwilling to let Inutaisho see her obvious enthusiasm.

As much as he intimidated her, baffled her, threatened her too, Shiroihana was undeniably attracted to him. Whatever Samidare had seen in him had been right after all. He was perhaps not as good of a match all-around as Koshoshiro was, but with Koshoshiro Shiroihana had been at risk of deep, passionate love. The all-consuming, annihilating love that would distract her from ruling, pry her from responsibility and blind her to danger. Inutaisho was a constant threat, but he was also attractive and interesting enough that Shiroihana enjoyed him. Yet she could not trust him and that kept her on her toes.

Inutaisho looked down into her face and whispered. "What a strange place the Kosetsu is. A place where daughters send away their fathers when they tire of them."

"Lord Shinkumaru asked my permission to leave, he wanted to go. I did not banish him," Shiroihana snapped, taking offense though she sensed that Inutaisho was teasing her, testing her at most. He was not interested in challenging her, only in the possibility of having sex.

"Yes my Queen," Inutaisho said, laughing.

Shiroihana snapped the fan shut. The suddenness of the sound made her husband flinch. In that fraction of a second Shiroihana struck, snatching at his waist, at the sashes securing his armor, tugging him down to kiss her. When they parted she was already breathing hard, already burning deep within for him.

"The Queen is impatient," Inutaisho remarked, smirking knowingly. But already Shiroihana could see his face softening, his eyes darkening with lust. His nostrils flared once as he sniffed. He said nothing but his actions told Shiroihana well enough that he needed no further convincing. Inutaisho reached for her with sudden insistence, abrupt urgency, but his armor was in the way.

Shiroihana pushed him away. "Take that off, swine." Her grin was savage. She had called him swine when they had first met. Both of them remembered it with amusement.

Losing his wits, Inutaisho growled and tugged on some of the sashes. One metal plate fell and clattered on the floor, as loud as a thunder clap. Shiroihana hissed with annoyance. She turned her back on him and began to walk swiftly away, as if losing interest.

Forgetting about the armor, Inutaisho rushed after her.

Shiroihana slipped into the open door of her room, disappearing in the dark. Before Inutaisho caught up with her she had already loosened her robe, shedding her obi completely and tossing it carelessly on the floor. She left her back to the door as she listened for Inutaisho's heavy, hurried tread. Armor clanked again as he worked frantically to shed it the way a dog shakes to remove water from his pelt. He was cursing under his breath in a bizarre, absent mixture of Japanese and Chinese that almost made Shiroihana laugh aloud.

When his large, powerful hands gripped her shoulders and Shiroihana felt his hot breath on the top of her head, she turned and thwacked him in the face with her fan. Inutaisho growled and pulled back from her, but even as he rubbed his nose the playful gleam had intensified. The scent of his arousal had increased as well.

"So impatient! Swine! Brute!" Shiroihana scolded him playfully. "A Queen does not remove her husband's armor."

Inutaisho growled as he fumbled, tossing aside more of the armor until he could reach his own robes, at the sashes and obis securing it tightly shut. "I thought being a stud dog would be easy," he teased.

"The stud must be ready when the female is," Shiroihana purred. She watched the armor on the floor for a time, catching the bright glint of metal. She thought of war, of death, or swords flashing and blood pumping onto fresh white snow. She would ask him about that soon, the moment their lust had been slaked this first round.

She had ceased drinking the herbs in her tea. Inutaisho's return would set off a heat almost immediately. Already Inutaisho had lost some of his wits with smelling her, sensing on an animal level her approaching hormonal change, her readiness. Though Sesshomaru had thought that Inutaisho wanted to kill Shiroihana and take the Kosetsu lands for himself, Shiroihana had never doubted that he would have other thoughts when he took in her scent, when he saw her sitting in a place of power. He was thinking of what a fine carrier she would be, a vessel for his growing offspring, a well from which his future bloodline could spring. And simpler even than that, what a fine temptress she would be in bed, warming his naked flesh.

If she had been a son, if the Kosetsu had been a land ruled by men, by its sons, then there would have been war, bloodshed. But because Fate had aligned a male and female, the yin and yang, they saw mates as well as rivals, and ultimately sex won over war—barely.

When Inutaisho had at last stripped down to nakedness he advanced on her, growling and thrumming with anticipation. Shiroihana shrugged off her loose robe and embraced him. The hardness of male met with the softness of female. In the mixture, in the fray, Shiroihana's fears and doubts vanished, abolished, forgotten, shredded.

Inutaisho had been a skilled lover, slow or fast depending on her needs, but now he was hasty, like a starving man sitting before a large, exquisite meal. He had not been with her for months, had not felt the moment of release, the rush of bliss, for a long time after three months of almost nightly encounters. It was like fasting after months of feasting. Coupled with Shiroihana's changing scent, her oncoming fertility…

He cried out deafeningly, louder than Shiroihana could recall ever hearing before, his entire body tensing rhythmically. He collapsed halfway on top of her, gasping, his chest heaving.

Shiroihana stroked his back, then his hair, absorbed by the warmth of his naked body, intertwined, tangled with her own. He shifted against her, laying his head closer to hers. He snuggled close to her ear and clutched her close to him. He muttered an apology in Chinese and then in Japanese, giving the words no voice, only breathing them out in little puffs of hot, moist air.

Now was the moment when Shiroihana needed to act. While he was unsuspecting, vulnerable and relaxed in her arms, sated momentarily with physical pleasure. Inuyoukai did not remain long in such a state. The drive to survive, to either move on from the coupling or begin it again would take over quickly. With Shiroihana coming into a heat, into a cycle of fertility, Inutaisho would not remain languid and satisfied for very long.

Shiroihana lifted her head and curled one naked leg around Inutaisho's, gradually trying to roll him over without causing too much of a stir. But as she moved, Inutaisho caught her arm and pulled her close against him. He inhaled deeply and the deep purr began in his chest, deeper than a true catlike purr, but softer, more comforting than a growl. He nibbled at her neck and ran his claws gently up and down her spine, eliciting a shiver from her that moved up and down the length of her body, mimicking his fingers.

"_I love you,"_ he announced in Chinese and then cleared his throat and blinked up at her as he repeated it in Japanese. "I love you."

Shiroihana had managed to perch herself over him, straddling his hips down to the bed. Her hair was long and unrestrained, it reached down to tickle his chest and her thighs. Shiroihana was silent, distracted and troubled by his words. How could he lie in a moment such as this?

"Shiroihana?" he queried, reaching out and touching her, laying a hand casually over her breast, a motion of ownership, of complete confidence. He ran his palm, warm and moist, down from her breasts to the hollow of her stomach, her bellybutton and toward her navel.

Shiroihana snatched his hand before it could go someplace truly distracting. She blurted, "Why have you been killing humans and youkai around the Tengai? Why have you been expanding the Okou clan's territory?"

His brow furrowed with confusion, his eyes and teeth reflected the faint light from the open window slats brightly in the dark. His voice was thick, the word slurred. "What?"

Shiroihana dug her nails into his hand, pricking the skin just enough to hurt. Inutaisho yelped and jerked, bucking beneath her, trying to escape. "What are you planning?" Shiroihana growled.

Inutaisho was frowning, shaking his head, perplexed and distressed at her abrupt change from sexy to dangerous. "I am expanding the territory. _Our _territory."

"The Tengai are your lands only," Shiroihana snapped. "What are you planning?"

"I am making a respectable inheritance for my son!" He laid a hand over her very flat abdomen where both of them knew there was no pup growing to take up such an inheritance, not yet.

"I may have no sons for you," Shiroihana told him. "What then? Hmn?"

Inutaisho bared his teeth at her. "We will have sons."

"Only _fools_ bet on unknown futures, Inutaisho." Shiroihana leapt from him, sprightly, abandoning him on her bed. She knelt and grabbed up her robe with one hand, then picked at her obi with the toes of the opposite foot.

Inutaisho growled and swooped down on her from behind. He pinned her hands to her sides and ignored the kick of her feet as she tried to trip him. With a steady burst of grunts from his throat, he dragged her back to the bed and sat on her legs. He was heavier than she was and unless Shiroihana genuinely wanted to harm him—which she didn't—there was no way to escape. She glared up at him, breathing hard.

"Two sons," Inutaisho said. "We will have two sons." He lowered his voice and spoke in Chinese. _"Two sons to the Dog King. Two sons to the forgotten son."_

"Ridiculous," Shiroihana hissed, but the tiny white hairs on her neck, arms, and legs had all stood up in a shiver of intuitive awe.

"Do you know, Shiroihana, how I knew when to come back home?" Inutaisho asked, calming.

Shiroihana did not struggle beneath him. Fear had crept in around the edges of her mind. She did not answer and did not breathe. _More secrets?_ She recalled her brother's warnings, Samidare's suspicion that Inutaisho could commune with the dead.

"The mainlanders are very superstitious. My mother learned their ways after we traveled there two hundred years ago, after the panthers first invaded. There was a very talented human fortune teller who we often visited. One day, when I had all but forgotten about these wretched islands—and the Okou who had rejected me and left me and Mother to starve—the fortune teller came and told me to return."

He had leaned down, getting closer and closer to her as he spoke. Shiroihana was frozen, staring into his eyes, glittering, lit golden from within. Her hands had clutched around Inutaisho's wrists but she did not prick the skin. She was transfixed, unable to fight with him. Her body was stiff and suddenly cold, the sense of the dead encircled her, cold and unfriendly. For the dead despise the living and lie constantly unless the fortune teller or prophet is powerful enough to intimidate them. Perhaps Inutaisho was one who could do exactly that.

"He said exactly, _'The panthers have come back to play. The forgotten son must make them pay.'_ He sang a spell over me and made a prophecy. He wrote four names in the sand as well as the name of their clan."

Shiroihana bared her teeth at him and shook her head. "Don't tell me…"

"Kosetsu. Samidare, Sesshomaru, Shinkumaru, and a daughter who I would marry."

"No," Shiroihana insisted, shaking her head repetitively and vigorously until she was dizzy. "You had spies. You learned about me and planned to take the Kosetsu…"

Inutaisho laughed and a little bit of spittle rained down on Shiroihana's face, making her flinch. She scowled irritably.

He spoke in Chinese. _"When I left the Tengai I was a sleepy pup who had barely seen his first blood in the panther invasion. I had not even bedded my first woman. I knew nothing outside of the Tengai. Queen Shiroihana—how could I have returned to these islands with any greater knowledge or some previously laid net of spies?"_ He grinned viciously. "You fear me so much. You have been listening to your foolish little brother."

"Do not insult Sesshomaru," Shiroihana whispered, a dangerous tone entering her words.

"You love your brother, but not your husband. Would you rather have _him_ be your stud?" Inutaisho snarled disgustedly.

Shiroihana broke loose from his grip and struck him in the face. Inutaisho pulled back. The scuffle ended almost the moment it had begun. Shiroihana sat at the front of her bed, Inutaisho at the end. Both were stiff, immovable as stone statues.

"You are deranged for thinking like that," Shiroihana growled. "And you have no right to use that word so loosely, so basely. You devalue it."

"What word?" Inutaisho asked, lifting his head, glaring.

"Love. You do not love me, you use me. Sesshomaru and I love one another truly, loyally." She paused and then made a sound of disgust, a heavy, wet snort. "You are disgusting. Truly, a swine to suggest—"

"There are places and families that do it, Shiroihana," Inutaisho replied, calm and cool again. "You realize you drove your father away by joining your brother against your mother's spirit, against her will. If I understand right you have done something no other Queen has."

"_You_ may have had no brothers, no sisters, no family to love you as I have had, but that is because you are a worthless bastard." Shiroihana started to get up, to leave, but when Inutaisho growled she halted, staring at him cautiously. "What?"

Inutaisho was silent for a moment, hesitant. Then he spoke in Chinese, _"I knew you were no virgin when we married, but I thought it had been in childhood or in play with your brother."_

"Disgusting swine," Shiroihana muttered, gagging.

Inutaisho ignored her, maintaining a hard but practical tone. _"But if it was not innocent and experimental in childhood then you must have something else within you that keeps your heart from me."_

Suddenly the topic of incest seemed much friendlier than what Inutaisho had come to now. She realized with a jolt that when he had professed to love her and she had attacked him in response she had hurt him deeply and opened herself up to attack in return. Inutaisho had not cared about who her partner was before he realized that it could have been serious and recent and standing in his way. Now he wanted to know.

At once she knew that she could not tell him.

"Why should you care? You only plan to impregnate me and steal the child. Do not expect me to believe your lies, the confession of love. You seek only to distract me from your true purpose. You never told me of the families you were killing, the territories you were stealing."

Inutaisho growled with exasperation and edged closer to her, as if preparing to grab at her, but pausing as he spoke. "I did not think it would alarm you! I did not think you were so paranoid—so stupid to worry yourself over it!" He turned his head, staring at the door and curling his lips over his teeth bitterly. "It is your brother who taints you. Your closeness with him, it is unnatural."

Shiroihana snorted, unimpressed. "Spoken by an only child. A bastard child. Do the fish know about air? No they do not, because they cannot fathom a world beyond water. It is the same with you. You are foolish to be so jealous of him. You could befriend him and share him with me. Sesshomaru could be your brother too."

"I am sorry for suggesting what I did about him. It was wrong. I was wrong." Inutaisho ducked his head, an awkward bow that reminded Shiroihana rather suddenly that they were both entirely naked.

"Accepted, noted." Shiroihana left the futon and moved stiffly about the room, collecting the clothes where she had dropped them when Inutaisho came after her. She dressed as her face began to burn, feeling the weight of her husband's stare. It was not as angry as it had been. Fury had cooled without warning when lust resurged between them. Shiroihana did not intend to stay to indulge in the carnal act, did not plan on even saying goodbye before she slipped out to find a dressing room and make herself presentable before finding her brother a reporting the strange prophecy that Inutaisho had let slip.

But as she moved for the door and laid her clawed fingers on it, Inutaisho called out to her softly. She paused but did not turn to look at him. He had not moved, had not dressed. "What is it?"

"I do not devalue love. I meant what I said. And if I use you, _Shiroihana,_" he was very deliberate when he used her name intimately without titles, "it is no more than how you use and abuse me."

Shiroihana said nothing, merely disappeared, slipping out of the room.

* * *

She wasted no time before explaining the prophecy to Sesshomaru. It seemed to confirm Samidare's suspicions on Inutaisho. He had some sort of connections and control on the dead. He promised to think on it and study as much as he could and then encouraged Shiroihana to leave and rest.

The reason for his shortness with her became apparent when Shiroihana woke the next day, bathed in sweat and uncomfortable. A heat had descended on her. The scent of a female inuyoukai in heat normally drove males insane with lust and need, driving them to travel extraordinary distances to find and claim the chance to mate and father a pup. It also made them violent, ready to snarl and bite and compete with anyone else vying to mate. But the scent of a related female in heat, like a sister, a mother, or an aunt, niece or cousin, tended to repulse a male. Thus Sesshomaru had not wanted to talk with her for very long and would be an unwilling companion for the next several days.

The previous day she had been eager to conceive and carry a child, but now the thought troubled her. Shiroihana stayed closeted inside the room she had chosen to stay in the previous night, not her normal chambers, but a smaller room on the opposite side of the palace. It would not stop Inutaisho from finding her. Scents traveled far and wide and inuyoukai had some of the sharpest noses around. The flimsy screens and doors of Kagetsu palace would not stop Inutaisho—especially when he had scented the oncoming change the previous night.

It was only midmorning when he arrived, clothed only in light robes and already smelling musky with arousal. Shiroihana glared at him but gave in. The heat was far worse than the slight pleasure she would get from rejecting her husband. That was the whole point of marriage anyway, to ensure that she did not have to suffer them but always had a partner to give her children and company.

It wasn't long before she found herself entangled with him, the world blurred away in overwhelming bliss. For five days Inutaisho stayed with her, at times rough and fast with need, but at other times slow, languid, lazy, even tender and gentle. Under the radiance of his golden eyes, like the sunlight from Heaven, Shiroihana gave in, forgetting any fear of any of the three men who were now so heavily involved with her life. She did not think of her father's unhappiness with her and her brother, nor of Sesshomaru's worry and suspicion.

Only Inutaisho mattered as he held her, kissed the entirety of her body, stroked her hair and kept her warm with the continual flex of his muscles. By the time the grip of the heat had passed, late on the fourth day, a strange healing had taken place between them. Though the raw sexual drive had passed, they could lie side by side, staring at the other, and smile with real warmth.

It had dawned at last on Shiroihana that this enormous, forgotten son of the Okou—this bastard born of a favored daughter of the head of the clan, this brute of strength and giant of intelligence—was not plotting her death.

And he was not lying when he proclaimed his love for her.

How strange the thought that a husband would love his wife, truly and completely. And stranger still that the wife of one such as Inutaisho could hold back at all.

* * *

After the heat had passed and husband and wife returned to their daily lives, a balmy peace seemed to settle over the Kagetsu. Shiroihana became the messenger between two powerful men, her brother on one side, her husband on the other. She attempted to sooth Sesshomaru's suspicions, to convince him to give Inutaisho a chance to become friends. Surely they could bond with each other. Inutaisho was well liked on the battlefield, admired by warriors far and wide now. Why not Sesshomaru?

Tentatively brother and husband began to eat and share tea in the same room with Shiroihana, to talk to her together, even to occasionally talk back and forth. Triumph and contentment bubbled inside Shiroihana. She laughed freely with these two men and shared her embraces between them.

It seemed there was no end to her delight when her scent and appetite changed. Her body began to feel heavy but pleasant, fulfilled. It was not a surprise that she had conceived, but Shiroihana rejoiced anyway.

Her pregnancy seemed to soften Inutaisho as well, to please him as possibly nothing else had. He had planned to leave for the Tengai—to continue challenging weaker neighbors, kicking over one anthill after another, adding to his lands—as soon as he knew whether she had conceived or not, but the scent and sight of her excited him, thrilled him. Days passed and he did not leave and eventually admitted that he couldn't because it pained him to miss a moment of it.

Inutaisho shared a bed with her each night, at times simply being close to her, relishing her scent, her warmth, her closeness and the new life that had miraculously sprouted between them, healing them, cleansing them. The bloodshed and death of the panther wars, the stress of their first tentative months of marriage, were all behind them. When the mood struck them they made love, a slow dance, a delicacy. The silences of their room filled with low, soft sighs. Inutaisho was a worshipful lover in this time, patient and gentle no matter how he felt himself.

He watched her naked body while Shiroihana lied only half awake dreaming of her mother's smile, of her mother's caresses, only to wake completely and find it was her husband and not Samidare. There was always the moment of pain as she realized her mother was dead, never to speak to her or touch her again, but there was so much promise within her world. A loving, adoring husband, a loyal and watchful brother, and the unborn pup growing fast inside of her.

* * *

Shiroihana was almost two months into her pregnancy when the child's scent emerged distinctly from her own. It was the scent of male hormones leaching out of her, denoting that Shiroihana carried Inutaisho's son, not the daughter that the Kosetsu would have wanted. This was hardly disappointing. In spite of the strange prophecy that Inutaisho had chanted for her two months ago, Shiroihana did not think this pup was related in any way.

She was so enthralled, so overjoyed with her life, that she barely noticed Sesshomaru's darkening gaze. Only rarely did she make an effort to speak with him in private now because she assumed that Inutaisho and her brother were bonding well enough. They spoke to one another and made rounds of Kagetsu and the palace grounds or sometimes even went out on daylong excursions to check the borders of the entirety of the Kosetsu. Shiroihana had seen them laughing together over private jokes or things they had witnessed while alone together. She had not seen overtly obvious trouble and believed that it had passed.

Then in the full heat of summer, kitsune messengers arrived from the Tengai, asking for Inutaisho. It was very early morning and a gecko interrupted Shiroihana and Inutaisho while they were lounging alone together, lacking clothes. The geckos were not smart enough to understand clothes and lack of clothes, and felt no embarrassment, but Inutaisho was not comfortable with their rudeness, their huge goldfish eyes bulging and moving about independently.

He dressed and left hurriedly, asking idly if Shiroihana wanted him to stall the meeting long enough for her to dress and meet with the kitsune as well. Shiroihana was hungry and not interested in playing diplomat, especially when the lands in question weren't her own. She let Inutaisho go without question or delay but dressed in a thin, simple robe with a small sash after he had gone. Shiroihana left to the tearoom where she ate raw whale and fish meat, craving the rich blood.

Sesshomaru found her there and entered the room without going through the ritual of bowing in respect. Shiroihana didn't reprimand him. She hardly held either of these men to those standards, both of them now so close to her heart, it was too formal for them to bow to her during their daily lives. It occasionally occurred to her that Samidare had never been as relaxed as this, not unless she was dealing with Shiroihana. The Queen's daughter, her heiress, was allowed some leeway, but no one else. Not under Samidare's reign.

But more and more, Shiroihana was proving that she was not her mother's daughter. She was something new, something different and unseen by the Kosetsu and all of Japan. A wife to match Inutaisho in his uniqueness.

Shiroihana had just bitten into a particularly juicy piece of meat. Blood dribbled from it onto her chin. Shiroihana wiped at it and scowled. Her robe was white, the blood stained it instantly. Sesshomaru came and sat down on the cushions across from her, hesitating for a moment before dropping his head in an abbreviated bow.

This abbreviated bow was Shiroihana's first clue that something was not right. She swallowed as fast as she could without choking and asked, "Brother? What's the matter?"

"I must ask Queen Shiroihana's permission to leave Kagetsu. I must journey. I am seeking information." He spoke in a hushed whisper and stared her pointedly in the eye.

Shiroihana set down the bit of meat and resisted the urge to suck the blood smears and droplets from her fingers and under her claws. "What is the meaning of this?"

"My Queen recalls two months ago that she learned her husband had returned to the Tengai because of an old fortune teller's words?"

Shiroihana nodded impatiently and motioned for him to continue. She was hungry and eager to eat the rest of her meat though it seemed rude to do so with her brother sitting in front of her, talking like a conspirator.

Sesshomaru pushed the small tray of raw meat away so that he could lean closer to his sister. Shiroihana fought to keep herself from watching the meat instead of her brother. Her golden eyes were aflame with hunger.

"I must go away for a while, Sister," Sesshomaru said, grinning darkly. "I must go to the Tengai and discover the truth."

Shiroihana frowned, partially forgetting the food. "You don't trust Inutaisho?"

Sesshomaru shook his head briefly. "Something has always troubled me over him. His story does not explain why he was so willing to marry you. You promised him so little and the Kosetsu cannot pass to his sons. It does not even bother him that I am your current heir, that I have more right in the Kosetsu than the pup you're carrying right now."

This didn't concern Shiroihana very much. She sighed. "Inutaisho has the Tengai." She sat back on the cushion and, forgetting the blood still on her fingers, touched her sash, her abdomen where the child was growing, secure, warm, and comfortingly heavy inside of her. "This little one will take the Tengai and rule it one day."

Sesshomaru smiled, his gaze warm and gentle, loving. He used intimate language when he spoke to her next, "You'll be a wonderful mother. I wish our mother could have been more like you." He paused and his throat moved, convulsing slightly with some emotion he was struggling to hide. "Your son will be very lucky to have you as his mother."

Shiroihana's chest hurt as she registered the sadness in her brother's eyes, in his wan smile. "I'm sure Mother loved you," she told him. "She was just unable to show it."

Sesshomaru shook his head. His lips pursed with bitterness. "There was never a child as unwanted as me." He evaded her gaze for a moment, blinking and laughing awkwardly. "I wish I could have had you as a mother instead."

"Brother…" Shiroihana inhaled, fighting tears. To stop them she snatched at the tray of meat and pushed a slice into her mouth, then gestured for Sesshomaru to take one.

He declined. "I must go to find the truth. I have to protect you, I have to protect the Kosetsu. Father would not believe, and our mother never did, but I am loyal until death."

Shiroihana swallowed rapidly, nearly choking. "Stop—no one is asking you to die!"

Sesshomaru smiled warmly and grasped her hand, holding it tightly in his, not even frowning as he touched the wetness of blood from the raw meat. "I will be gone as little as I can. I want to be here for my nephew's birth…"

"Promise that you will be back in time for it," Shiroihana ordered playfully. "I want him to know you. I want him to see you within an hour of his birth! Promise you will be there?"

"Of course," Sesshomaru said, and meant it.

He left without any ceremony with no announcement at all. Inutaisho asked about his absence and Shiroihana hid the reason behind it, saying that Sesshomaru had gone wandering, exploring, searching for a mate. An edge of darkness slipped into her dreams, a taint of fear.

What could Sesshomaru dig up? What would he find?

* * *

So the question is...will this baby survive??

On the subject of our puppy/baby Noel the Chihuahua, she's playing a little again, but still gorked out on Benadryl. I think she will be all right. We called the breeder and found out that she hadn't actually had one of the shots previously, so there's no question as to which one she reacted to. And in another puppy one dose of Benadryl was enough to quell the reaction and save the puppy. So we are debating on not giving her more doses at least right away...but personally I'd rather be safe than sorry, drugged and alive than risk it and have her die. She's just too sweet and adorable and silky soft to die. :,(

Next chapter: Myoga!

_"Please! My lady, my dear Queen! Permit me the honor of introducing myself! I have been of great service to your husband the Great Lord Inutaisho! My name is Myoga and I—"_

_Shiroihana interrupted the flea, addressing her brother over the top of his very annoying, insistent voice. "Brother, what is the meaning of this? I didn't expect you to return with fleas. It isn't healthy, especially not now."_

_"My greatest apologies!" Myoga went on, hopping up and down, and closer. Shiroihana stiffened, as if readying to run away, like a mortal human from a mouse. "I do not have as powerful of senses as you fine people do! I did not notice, my lady Queen! Great Lord Inutaisho! Congratulations!"_


	8. The Second Death

A/N: And now...a BIG moment...And we meet Myoga. In her earlier blurbs Shiroihana says "It took two deaths to transform me and end the line of Queens." The first one was her mother's death, Queen Samidare. A hard blow to a daughter and heiress, but also the only one standing in Shiroihana's path to succession. She became Queen afterwards and at once acted differently. But what about that other death? The one that really transformed her? If you haven't guessed it yet, that death is here. Death, and a birth to bring about Shiroihana's rebirth as an advocate of the Western Lands as ruled by a man, a son.

Disclaimer:

Last Chapter: Shiroihana got pregnant. Inutaisho revealed that a Chinese fortune teller told him to go home to fight off the panthers, and that he would have two sons. He also provided the names of Shiroihana's family members and her clan. When Shiroihana shared this with Sess he decided he had to leave, but Shiroihana made him promise to return for the birth of her son.

* * *

"The Sad Mother" by Gabriela Mistral

Sleep, sleep, my beloved,  
without worry, without fear,  
although my soul does not sleep,  
although I do not rest.

Sleep, sleep, and in the night  
may your whispers be softer  
than a leaf of grass,  
or the silken fleece of lambs.

May my flesh slumber in you,  
my worry, my trembling.  
In you, may my eyes close  
and my heart sleep.

* * *

Shiroihana

My son wields a blade that his father gave to him and for the longest time he thought it was worthless. The Tenseiga. I knew it not to be worthless at all, but I also knew that his choice to pass it on was more of an insult than my son initially thought. The full breadth of the insult will never be clear to him. Even if I were to tell him about it, I doubt my son would believe or understand. He often doubts me when I speak of his father, of the long ago past.

Before he died, Inutaisho had some blacksmith, I can't recall his name, it is unimportant, but this blacksmith put a limit on the power of Tenseiga. The sword has been renowned since Inutaisho first forged it for the panther demon war. What it is well-known for changes over time. When Inutaisho wielded the blade it was known as the sword of the Underworld, or the sword of the dark moon. It was called these things because Inutaisho used a certain attack, _Meidou Zangetsuha._ This was an impressive attack. In fact, although my son craved the power of Inutaisho's other sword, called Tetsusaiga, for many long years, I am sure he would have dismissed Tetsusaiga if he had known about Tenseiga's hidden abilities.

_Zangetsuha_ sends its victims straight to the Underworld, as far as I understand. It opens a circular shape, a moon. My son does not know it, but he has a Fate, a destiny that is constantly defined by that shape. The moon, the circle, the crescent. It follows him everywhere. It was carved into his forehead as a sign to me when I first wiped the birth blood from his skin. The crescent moon of the Kosetsu, the symbol of poison, the mark of the Queens.

Even my son's name is important. _Maru_ is common in youkai names, but for my son there is special significance. It means _circle._ Sessho_maru._

Each day when I behold my reflection in a mirror, I think of my son and I know that there is nothing finer that I could have created. I see him in my face, and I see me within his features. We are circular, we are as one. While Inutaisho pulled his fangs and brought them to queer, slow-witted blacksmiths to make them into swords, I made something greater than any sword. I created life. This is truly my finest reward. He is the future. _My _future, not Inutaisho's.

I do not know when Inutaisho decided to leave the Tenseiga with my son and hide the Tetsusaiga for that little white-haired rat. I can't recall his name. Inutaisho's other son. Not mine. An insect that wriggled away before I could squash it. Not that I cared enough to invest much energy in it. In fact, I rather like knowing that Inutaisho left behind such vermin. It is a mark of his true character. The poets do not speak about his deformed legacy, of the half-breed. They may speak of his unusual and endearing—if that is what they want to call it, I simply think of it as unnatural—love for humans, but they do not sing songs about its result. Perhaps I will. I will construct a detailed description so that those poets will appreciate the mighty and Great Dog General with new eyes. They will see him as the flawed thing he truly was.

I have lost my direction again. Yes, there it is. Inutaisho's inheritance to my son and myself. He left one sword with my son, but had it dulled down, took away much of its strength. In the panther wars it was as renowned and feared by the enemy as that other sword, the Tetsusaiga. Now it is named the "sword of healing." My son has no idea how…ironic, how insulting it was for his father to leave this sword with him. It is the sword that Inutaisho used to kill—. I do not set it down here. I do not care that you will not understand. Yet now my son bears it on his hip and has thought of it in the past as only a sword of _healing._ It did not _heal_ anything on the night of my son's birth.

And for me, when he died, Inutaisho left the Meidou-stone. The Meidou-seki. This too is a great insult but I have used it well and often. Sometimes, if I forget to put it away, stored far from me, the Meidou-seki calls and mocks me with Inutaisho's voice. I have thought often of finding Inutaisho's blacksmith—my son would know where to find him, I'm sure—and asking the old dotard to destroy it.

But I do not because there are other voices that come through the Meidou-seki. Useful ones. And it has served me well on occasion. Someday I may bequeath it to my son or one of his children and be rid of it. The blackness at its center spends entirely too much time chattering. It carries too many troubling memories of the long ago past.

No, better for it to be destroyed than passed to my son. To one of his daughters perhaps. But if my son were to hear the voices of the dead, I do not believe he would be pleased. The dead may be too eager to share secrets with my son, secrets that I know he can never be allowed to discover.

The dead could tell him who he really is and then he would know that he has died by the power of his own worthless sword.

* * *

**The Second Death**

During her pregnancy Shiroihana slowed. She felt like a ripening fruit, swelling as she absorbed water and sunlight, growing and changing. The child's first kicks fascinated her. Shiroihana gave herself over to the transformation of her body, of her heart and soul. She allowed Inutaisho to take part of even control political decisions. She could not bring herself to focus on the droll ideas of money, harvest, loyalty, and all the rest of it. She was impatient, so eager to meet the child growing within her that she pushed aside almost every other concern.

She trusted Inutaisho as never before and no harm seemed to come of it. The humans and demons of the Kosetsu who appeared before her in audiences regularly during the spring, summer, and fall, the traveling months, were not all that perturbed by the Queen's husband standing in for her. They understood that she was with child. It was a sacred time and had to be done right and well to make a fine heiress, a healthy child. Yet those with a sharp sense of smell, like the inuyoukai messenger Daken, could pick out the fact that this heir was male.

Inutaisho was also distracted by the developing child inside his wife. At night while they were alone, without the servants to hassle or interrupt them, and with Sesshomaru and Shinkumaru gone to wherever mysterious places they wanted, Inutaisho proposed names for their son, putting them together, sometimes mixing them with Chinese.

Shiroihana stroked her ever-expanding belly and casually turned each name down. None of them felt right to her and she did not try it for herself, knowing nothing about the wider world and its thoughts on proper names for inuyoukai boys. She fully expected to allow Inutaisho to name it and to take a great deal of time and effort in raising it, but unlike Samidare, Shiroihana planned to bond with her sons as well as her daughters. Sesshomaru's suffering could not be repeated again.

It was late fall when trouble began brewing in earnest, when disaster squatted on Shiroihana's Kosetsu and the Kagetsu palace. On a rainy day, dreary and dull, one of the first that Shiroihana noticed were less joyful and more fatiguing, exhausting even, she sensed her brother's return. She had been planning on relaxing in a hot bath to calm the spasms in her aching back, which had started to hurt as her pregnancy grew pronounced. But the joy of seeing her brother again was enough to push aside her minor discomfort and dress in earnest.

Kimono no longer fit her as smoothly as she liked, but the protrusion of her belly—of the pup within it—was not something of shame. Though she felt awkward as she sat in the white audience room with the scene of a blizzard swirling on its walls a stark reminder that the season would be changing very soon, Shiroihana took up the Queen's position of honor there with Inutaisho placed behind and to her right. Sesshomaru was already sitting and waiting in the center of the audience room.

As Sesshomaru bowed to them, Shiroihana realized that the three of them were not alone in the room. Her keen sense of smell, only heightened by pregnancy, revealed a fourth scent, faint and unpleasant. Also there was a fourth aura, one she usually associated with giant, dimwitted centipedes.

While Sesshomaru was still bowing, Inutaisho broke the silence, querying, "Myoga…?"

A spot moved, dark against Sesshomaru's white hair. Shiroihana could not stop herself from wrinkling her lip in disgust. She realized it was a flea, a parasitic, blood-sucking insect youkai. Shiroihana looked between Inutaisho and Sesshomaru with a mixture of bafflement and revulsion.

The spot spoke, greeting them formally. "Great Lord Inutaisho! How very nice it is to see you again, my lord!" The spot hopped away from Sesshomaru as he rose out of his bow and landed on the pale matting of the floor. "My lady! I have never seen one to match you in beauty! Am I correct that you are in fact the current Queen of the legendary female-ruled Kosetsu clan?"

"I do not speak to vermin," Shiroihana muttered, turning on her knees to search her husband's face. Inutaisho's cheeks had a hint of red in them but otherwise he was unaffected. It had been said on the battlefield that Inutaisho used any and all manner of willing creatures to fight the panthers. His innovation had been the key to winning there. But somehow Shiroihana was still shocked and mortified.

Her hands strayed to her swelling belly, heavy with their growing child. Would her son be drawn to fraternize with useless, ridiculous weakling youkai like fleas too? It was uncouth, unacceptable.

"Please! My lady, my dear Queen! Permit me the honor of introducing myself! I have been of great service to your husband the Great Lord Inutaisho! My name is Myoga and I—"

Shiroihana interrupted the flea, addressing her brother over the top of his very annoying, insistent voice. "Brother, what is the meaning of this? I didn't expect you to return with fleas. It isn't healthy, especially not now."

"My greatest apologies!" Myoga went on, hopping up and down, and closer. Shiroihana stiffened, as if readying to run away, like a mortal human from a mouse. "I do not have as powerful of senses as you fine people do! I did not notice, my lady Queen! Great Lord Inutaisho! Congratulations!"

"What are you doing here?" Inutaisho demanded abruptly. The note of alarm in his voice was clearly audible, distinct.

On the matting, Sesshomaru's face was fierce, his violet eyes ablaze with an emotion that Shiroihana couldn't read but knew at once that she didn't like. Her hands fisted up inside her heavy sleeves. "Sesshomaru? Brother? What is this? Why have you brought this flea here?"

"My name is Myoga, my lady Queen! Forgive me but the names of the Kosetsu Queens are not widely known elsewhere! May I have the honor of knowing your personal name?" The flea made the mistake of bouncing too close to Shiroihana and the inuyoukai woman struck using the back of her hand and her huge kimono sleeves to knock him away with a sneer of loathing.

"Myoga the flea acted as an advisor, scout, and personal retainer for Lord Inutaisho during the panther war. He is adept at finding what his lord needs because he is small, barely noticeable. Myoga is privy to many of Lord Inutaisho's deepest secrets so that he can help him achieve what he wants." Sesshomaru was staring his sister's husband down, threatening him silently. As he had spoken his voice had darkened, becoming almost sinister, mocking.

Myoga had stopped bouncing. Now he muttered, making a nervous noise.

"Myoga!" Inutaisho shouted, startling Shiroihana into nearly gasping. "What have you told this foolish whelp?"

Shiroihana felt abruptly dizzy, disoriented, sensing that the axe was poised over her and the palace, over her peace and happiness, her sincere contentment. She imagined grinding the flea into the tatami matting as if that would stop or alleviate the pain that had not yet come.

"Ah," Myoga stammered. He jumped once, a tiny and nervous motion. "There is somewhere else I need to be! I just remembered…"

Sesshomaru snatched the flea in his next jump and closed his fist tightly. He grinned up not at Shiroihana but at Inutaisho, mirthless and ruthless. "I think we should keep the flea close by in case Inutaisho decides to dispute or deny what I have to say. My sister must hear the truth for the future of the Kosetsu."

Inutaisho snarled, almost barking. He was on his feet and ready to run Sesshomaru down and kill him. His face was discolored, flushed red in the cheeks and pale around his eyes. Shiroihana interpreted it as shock. She watched the scene unfolding around her mutely, stunned into a stupor.

"Impudent whelp! Dissident coward!" He broke down and began cursing in fragmented Chinese. Shiroihana stared at her husband wide-eyed and bewildered beyond comprehension. The Chinese words he used were so foul that she could not identify half of them.

Sesshomaru steadfastly ignored Inutaisho, turning toward his sister instead, staring at her squarely in the eye even though she would not focus her own gaze on him. "Sister, I am so sorry to hurt you with bad news, especially with the little one you're carrying…"

"If you had any sense—_little fucker—_you would keep your dirty little nose out from where it doesn't belong!"

Shiroihana had never heard him speak in such a way before; in fact the word _fucker_ was foreign though it was Japanese. She knew it must have been a terrible insult, coarse and uncalled for, the sort of thing a lowborn grunt in the battlefield would toss out. A wave of shivering passed through Shiroihana's body. She longed like a child for Samidare wholly and completely but then closed her eyes, steeling herself, searching inwardly. She sought the strength of the line of Queens. _I must be ruthless. I must be unflinching._

But who deserved her wrath? Which one? She was bound so deeply to both!

The closed fist where Sesshomaru held the flea was making small, incomprehensible sounds, pleading for mercy. Sesshomaru ignored it and went on, still speaking only to Shiroihana. "I went back to the battlefield, into the Tengai, and found Inutaisho's old friends until one of them led me to this flea. I posed as an old friend of Inutaisho's. The flea was easy to deceive. I told him I had heard rumors and he denied them at first, but when I persisted—"

"You rotten little—" Inutaisho went on snarling, his hands clenching and unclenching in fury.

"The flea told me Inutaisho had come asking questions about Japanese fortune tellers and prophecy-speakers. Star readers. He told me there was a tool that Inutaisho had provided and with help from any seer of a certain caliber and talent, the stone allowed voices from the underworld to speak out."

"The flea spoke nonsense!" Inutaisho objected. "You do not have such a tool—a _stone_—to prove what you're saying!" Inutaisho reached for Shiroihana, grasping her shoulder, lowering his voice into a tone of comfort and placation. "Shiroihana, you cannot be—"

Shiroihana slapped his hand, clawing him and drawing blood. Inutaisho hissed with pain and drew away to glare at her. His golden eyes were narrowed and squeezed nearly shut with more than just physical pain.

"I have the stone," Sesshomaru announced and Inutaisho cursed him bitterly. With his free hand, Sesshomaru dug beneath his armor and pulled out a strange necklace. It rattled and weighed Sesshomaru's arm down as he held it up to show his sister. The center of the necklace was a round stone, gray and bland, but the very middle of the stone was hauntingly black, not even a color really, but an absence of light. "Inutaisho is not a medium by himself, he can only know or guess the future with this, Sister. And it was with this that a seer on the mainland ordered him to return and fight the panthers."

"And if I hadn't all of you would be fucking dead!" Inutaisho raged. He tried pleading with Shiroihana again, sounding startlingly pathetic, desperate. "Queen Shiroihana, please, I have never intended to harm you in any way, only to protect you, to walk on the same path with you. It is my Fate; my place is with you—with our son."

"I need no one's protection," Shiroihana spat, a tiny, breathless whisper. The baby inside her felt like lead, like mercury that had been pumped down her throat while she was sleeping soundly, drugged, unable to wake up. _This is a nightmare._

"If he never intended to harm you, Sister," Sesshomaru went on, dropping the strange stone necklace with its inky black center onto the matting between them. "If he is telling only the truth, Sister, why did he not tell you what the flea told me about his seed."

Shiroihana blinked and shook her head. "Two sons…?" she asked, feeling sick to realize that half of that was already true. Or was it? It didn't have to be…

"Not just that. Queen Shiroihana, Inutaisho looked into the stone with the help of the mainland seer and the seer predicted that Inutaisho would never bear daughters. Every child with every woman of any kind, all would be born male. His seed is male only. I have been troubled, Sister, for so long. Why did he agree to marry you when you challenged him as you did? With such steep terms because the Kosetsu has no need for sons. You are generous even in allowing him this one. The Okou clan was not female-ruled. He had no interest in giving you daughters but didn't care because he knew he could only give you sons. That was all he could give you. _Ever._ He planned to force you to dissolve the sacred tradition of the Kosetsu, to unite our lands with the Tengai and create a broader land that would be ruled by he and his sons alone." Sesshomaru jabbed the hand carrying the mortified flea at Inutaisho, a violent, accusatory gesture.

Inutaisho remained crimson with wrath but motionless. He was not watching Sesshomaru or Shiroihana, but staring at the floor, at the stone necklace with the black center.

Shiroihana was shaking violently, but her voice was calm when she spoke. "Prophecies can be wrong." She held her breath for a moment to control her shuddering. "I—I could kill this now…"

She was clutching her belly.

Sesshomaru's eyes widened, he sat back and was silent with shock. Inutaisho was stammering, breathing like a bull about to charge.

"No," her husband growled, deep and guttural. "No, no, no you cannot."

Shiroihana glanced at him briefly, once. It was more than she could stand. His face was twisted, contorted with rage and grief. His pain was her own at the thought, but the Queen within her, symbolized by her mother's face within her mind's eye, was ruthless and cruel, ferocious enough to kill a son before he could become a threat. Vicious and heartless enough to end the life of an unborn child who already took up noticeable space inside her belly, shortening her breaths with his innocent bulk. In her dreams she had already imagined holding him, hearing his cries, feeling his tiny little breaths as he held onto her, and the tiny wet warmth of his hungry, strong little mouth around her nipple as he nursed…

If Sesshomaru was telling the truth—and Shiroihana already believed him—there would always be sons for Inutaisho. There would be no daughters. No princesses for the Kosetsu. The line of Queens was broken anew, all over again, but this time it was definitively, for real.

If Shiroihana accepted it and followed the path her husband would inevitably have proposed to fix the situation, then the Kosetsu was dead. The balance of male-female was lost forever. No one would remember the power of womanhood, of the ultimate power, impossible gift of females to all the world: birth. Life.

It was the easy path, the wrong one to sit by and accept the end. Perhaps Inutaisho had been happy when Shiroihana was already breaking the traditions and upsetting her father by naming her brother as her heir. If she was already willing to pass the bloodline through one male inheritor, surely her own sons would receive the same favor…

A true Queen never took the easy path, she took the right one. But this time the righteous path was so arduous, so agonizing.

Her arms were around the pup growing in her, a protective gesture, but when she spoke it was to shatter her husband, to harm him. "_You_ cannot decide whether he lives or dies," she whispered, her voice weak and shaking. "I am Queen, or have you already forgotten that?"

"You cannot _kill our son!"_ He was poised as if ready to attack her, livid with fury.

"You have deceived my sister from the moment you met her—before that even, from the moment you met with our clan. You promised something you knew you could not give. You planned to kill our tradition, our bloodline." Sesshomaru rose slowly to his feet, carefully and cautious to avoid setting Inutaisho into an attack. He scooped up the necklace from the floor and approached the platform, dropping to his knees and drooping his head. He extended the hand carrying the necklace. "My Queen has never doubted me. She has only ever loved me. It pains me to have to bring her such terrible news."

Shiroihana watched the sway of the necklace, rocking and clinking on its thick, round-beaded chain. She snatched it with shaking hands from her brother and threw it with a sneer at Inutaisho. It smacked him in the face but he barely flinched. The necklace fell, clattering, landing between Inutaisho's knees.

_I must be strong,_ Shiroihana thought. Her voice was slow and cold, a sharp contrast to her violent actions of moments before. "I believe my brother. You planned to marry me and provide only sons. In doing so you planned the death of my clan, of my bloodline. It is conspiracy, treason. I have every right to banish you—to have you killed. You have been _stupid_ to place your faith in prophecies made by the dead. They lie constantly. They despise the living."

Inutaisho had remained frozen, immovable. The necklace lay between his knees, damning him though he made no move to touch it. "You cannot kill my son," he snarled.

Shiroihana lifted her chin in the air, staring down her nose at him. "The child is _my_ son. His life exists at my will alone. Not yours. I can order your death; have our marriage annulled, and kill the baby." It was only with the greatest effort that she did not cry, though where the desire to do so came from she did not know. "You will not stop the Kosetsu."

"_Heartless bitch,"_ Inutaisho growled, barely able to speak through his fury, uttering the curse in Chinese. "Kill your own pup!" He lifted shaking fists as if he would strike her and Sesshomaru moved, sliding seamlessly onto the platform to sit between them, physically blocking his sister.

"Keh," Inutaisho grunted, as if clearing his throat. His teeth were sharp and a little too big for his mouth. There was a red tint in his eyes. He was gradually losing control. Sesshomaru was armed and dressed in armor; Inutaisho wore only a powerless ceremonial blade, donned only for appearance. He had only his claws to stand against Sesshomaru's blades, one of which Inutaisho himself had given to the younger inuyoukai, his brother-in-law.

"Yield," Sesshomaru ordered his sister's husband. "You have lost. Admit that you have plotted to end the female succession of the Kosetsu, that you have planned all along to usurp Queen Shiroihana."

Inutaisho grunted again and shifted position, crouched, supporting his weight with both arms and legs in a distinctly doglike stance. His white hair fell loose and unrestrained around his shoulders. His throat worked, the Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He lowered his head, hiding his face and called out in a growl to Shiroihana. "Wife! _Lover,"_ he slipped between Chinese and Japanese unconsciously, mixing phrases. "Shiroihana! If I could give you daughters I would. It is out of my control. _I wanted you. I needed you. I was banished, forgotten. I was reborn! Do not kill my son. _Your son! Do not kill your son!"

His begging broke Shiroihana. She covered her face, her chest heaved. She cried out, a strangled, pathetic sound not worthy of a fair, stoic Queen. Shinkumaru had pleaded for Sesshomaru to be born, to be spared. She recalled vividly her brother's comment: _Your son will be very lucky to have you as his mother,_ he'd said, _I wish I could have had you as a mother instead._

"A Queen makes her own decisions," Sesshomaru told Inutaisho, stiffly.

"You are jealous," Inutaisho shouted. His teeth were still too big for his mouth, seemingly spilling out. "You _want_ her to kill the pup! You _want_ everyone else out of the way! You sick little fucker…"

"I have done nothing but share the truth with my sister!" Sesshomaru returned, also shouting.

Shiroihana could not take it any longer. She popped upright, onto her feet and moved away from them both, heading for the door of the audience room, as if about to retreat deeper into the palace. When she sensed both men trying to follow her, Shiroihana halted and yelled without turning to look at them.

"Inutaisho!" Her shoulders were stooped and heaving as she fought the grief inside. The sight of the open doorway to the audience room was blindingly white with the painted snowflakes. Shiroihana wanted to claw it up in rage. It was too much a reminder of her mistakes, of her mother who was so, so much stronger.

"What!" Inutaisho shouted, almost howling.

"Leave the palace. Go back to the Tengai! Do not return before the spring."

"No! I won't leave you to _kill him!_" He was speaking of their unborn child.

There was the sound of the floor boards shifting, feet thumping, Inutaisho and Sesshomaru grunting. Fabric ripped and Shiroihana heard the flea crying out, blubbering stupidly. His aura faded very suddenly. Sesshomaru had finally released him. As a parasite he was very skilled at disappearing, at surviving unseen and invisibly. How many such servants had Inutaisho acquired?

Then the metallic ring of a sword being drawn forced Shiroihana to act.

Shiroihana turned in time to see that Sesshomaru had drawn one of his swords. The two men sprang back from one another. Inutaisho was distracted, desperate to reach Shiroihana, but unwilling to lose a limb. His golden eyes were almost red, like blood, like the blood that would pour from Shiroihana's womb when she purged the child.

The image nearly gagged her and Shiroihana banished it. _I am not strong enough, Mother. I am not ruthless. I cannot!_

"Stop! Sesshomaru!" she yelled.

He hopped backward to stand at her side, a faithful bodyguard. In the room, Inutaisho's sleeve was torn, probably in the swiftness of the scuffle by Sesshomaru's claws. One of his claws was chipped too; no doubt he had thoughtlessly slashed at Sesshomaru to push him away, only to encounter the metal of his armor.

"I will die before you kill him!" Inutaisho roared.

"If you leave," Shiroihana said, softly, breathlessly. "I will not do it."

"I will not miss his birth," Inutaisho snarled, shaking his head.

Shiroihana felt whatever resolve she had fleeing from her. The countless nights, evenings and mornings she had shared her bed with her husband, relishing his warmth, enraptured by their unborn son, so eager to hold him, to hear him, to watch him grow, the visible sign of their love.

That love was nearly shattered now. How could she keep Inutaisho at her side if this prophecy was true? How could she sit by waiting, carrying son after son? She was Queen and fully intended to have a daughter take over after her. Even the fleeting thought of adopting her brother's children displeased her. They would be nieces, not direct descendents. She was selfish at heart, unwilling to fail in the most sacred thing a female could do—reproduction.

"You may return for his birth," she murmured, assenting and hating herself for it.

There was a moment of awkward silence, then Sesshomaru motioned violently with his sword. "Go, take your things and leave. You wanted to go back to the Tengai anyway, remember?" He growled. "Do not test the Queen's patience, she has been most merciful!"

Inutaisho left, but time and reality had blurred for Shiroihana. Exhausted, drained by misery, she asked Sesshomaru to take her to an empty bedroom and fell into a deep sleep, dreamless except for haunting snatches of conversation, for the deep betrayal that had blasted her happy world apart.

* * *

Inutaisho had taken his armor, all of the clothing he had brought with him in the spring, and his swords, all three of them. He had also taken the necklace. Sesshomaru told her later that it was called _Meidou-seki. _Shiroihana never wanted to see it again.

She felt as if she had swallowed the moon while it was half-full and growing. The child inside of her seemed to sense that he was in peril and pick up the speed at which he grew. He kicked almost constantly and Shiroihana found herself weakening physically until she nearly despaired trying to haul herself out of bed. Sesshomaru was at her side constantly, but his company felt empty, hollow to Shiroihana. She wondered what he felt she should have done. Did he see her billowing belly and think her a traitor to their clan? Or was he the malcontent that Samidare, Shinkumaru, and even Inutaisho claimed that he was?

No, not everyone was an enemy. That was not possible.

The weather soured swiftly. Fatigue and a growing sense of hopelessness slowed Shiroihana's thoughts. She tried to sit and write them out, to piece together what she had learned and what it meant, where the right decision lied. She was weakened by emotions, unable to kill her son though she sensed over and over that it was the right thing to do. To comfort herself she returned to thoughts of Koshoshiro. He had already sired one daughter. Queens of the past had stood alone and conceived "fatherless" children before.

Shiroihana decided that she would be one of these and she didn't think it would be hard, especially if she was unmarried, to convince him to come and visit her. He had not spoken all that highly of his current wife. She was dull, unimaginative. Shiroihana knew she could please him, lure him into her own bed long enough to conceive. And if that child was a boy, well, she would kill it early and try again.

The Kosetsu would not die with her. It could not.

Winter came on, fast and hard. Heavy snows fell, clogging the passes between the mountains of the Tengai and the Kosetsu. Shiroihana wondered if Inutaisho had given up on her and his son. It did not hurt her, she told herself, but knew it was a lie. She considered annulling their marriage over and over again but did not have the energy to puzzle out the formal language and set it to record with a scribe. She mulled over the idea of giving her son when he was born to Inutaisho, a placating measure, a peace offering, a halfway sign of forgiveness.

She feared Inutaisho, in spite of herself. Few rumors had come to her since he had left. She worried he was rallying an army to trample the Kosetsu, to take Kagetsu palace by force. Was he angry enough to kill her while she carried his son? When she thought like this she imagined the child as a shield, a bodyguard like Sesshomaru. Then she thought Inutaisho would come with his army, with the same innovation and strength that had made him a legend of the panther war, both the smaller invasion and the full-fledged war, kill Sesshomaru, and take her as a prisoner long enough for her to give birth. Then he could kill her and still have his noble-born son.

Under the full blight of winter, Sesshomaru baffled her by asking her permission to leave again. He woke her early in the morning. Outside the closed wooden slats of Shiroihana's room a blizzard had started, biting and cruel. Sesshomaru whispered his request as soon as she was awake enough to understand it.

"You can't," she told him, anger sparking. With his help and an inelegant grunt of effort, she sat upright on the futon mattress and faced him. She laid a hand over her abdomen, impossibly large now. "You promised to be here for his birth."

"I know—I will be. If I can't get the answer I want in time I will give up on it and try after he has been born." Sesshomaru was bowing apologetically to her. When he rose his purple eyes were dark, almost black. "It pains me to leave my sister when she is so distressed. But I must go. I feel it deep in my bones, Queen Shiroihana. There is something I do not know yet, but am meant to find out, to ease your burden." His smile was sad. "Forgive me—I have caused you such pain."

"There is nothing else in the world," Shiroihana muttered. She glared at him, bitter through the gloom of the bedroom. "Why do you even bother to ask me? You are going to go whether I approve or not. Without you I will be vulnerable. I cannot fight like this." She gestured at her belly with disgust. "I am weak. You were right to tell me not to stop taking the herbs."

"A Queen always does what she wants," Sesshomaru told her, shaking his head. "And I know my Queen does not wish this child dead."

"I wish I did," she muttered. "I wish I hadn't stopped you from killing Inutaisho. It would be so much easier if you had."

"You did not want it," Sesshomaru whispered. "I am your servant, your brother, your heir. I follow what you want and what is best for you, in that order."

Tears threatened and Shiroihana felt again childlike, desperate for physical touch, reassurance. She reached clumsily, awkward with the weight and heavy presence of her unborn son. Sesshomaru moved into her embrace with equal awkwardness, but solemn, profound emotion. He laid his cheek against hers, his hands moved over her spine with a gentle touch. Shiroihana clung to him and shook, abruptly afraid and cold in spite of the warmth of his body.

When they parted she took his face, cupping his jaw in her hands and peered for a long time into his face, blinking to fight tears. She wanted to curse her pregnancy, the swirl of hormones that brought out her weaknesses, amplified them tenfold, but she was overcome with affection, with a sense of loss, of premonition. As if this would be the last time she saw him, scented him, felt his living presence.

"Promise that you will take care of yourself. Promise that you won't be gone from me long. I can't survive without you." Her lips were quivering, her heart pounding. "I will never forgive you if—"

"I am strong, Sister. Nothing will happen to me, nothing will keep me from returning to see my nephew. I will never leave you." He inclined his head, touching his forehead to hers and closing his eyes, breathing for a moment. _"Oneesan,_ you will always have my love."

After he had left, Shiroihana cried unrestrainedly, sobbing uncontrollably. The emptiness, the cold bite of winter, of the blizzard that lasted for two full days outside, seemed poised to swallow Shiroihana whole.

* * *

Sesshomaru was gone only a week when what Shiroihana had feared most was confirmed. Daken came to her, battered and dirty, blood staining his robes. The monkey and gecko maids could not stop him from rushing to her, finding her in a state of undress and despair in bed. He made no sign of disapproval or disgust or even embarrassment. The situation was too dire for the normal rituals of formal greeting and empty courtesy, even of the most flowery formal language.

Shiroihana wakened with a start, gasping for air as the geckos, monkeys, and Daken all spilled into the darkened, dreariness of her bedroom as one. The monkeys were muttering apologetically, understanding that this would embarrass Shiroihana, that it was improper, but the geckos only sat back, their eyes rolling around independently. Occasionally one of them licked with a long, sticky tongue, cleaning reptilian lips and eyes with a wet, sucking sound.

Daken prostrated himself before her, touching his forehead to the ground. "Queen Shiroihana!" he was panting with panic. The scent of his blood and the blood of others reached Shiroihana's nose in a rush.

She tried to sit up but the weight of her belly and the continuous haze of exhaustion and grief made it impossible. She called weakly for the maids. The geckos obeyed, the monkeys simply stared. With their help Shiroihana righted herself and shielded her body with the covers and at last acknowledged the messenger, sensing even through her dull, fatigued mind that something terrible had happened. "What is it, Daken? Speak."

He did not rise from the floor. "Lord Inutaisho—the Queen's husband—he has returned with his general, Lord Shinkumaru, Queen Shiroihana's father. They have an army encircling the mountainside. I was captured roaming our lands and sent to come to you with word."

Pregnancy weakened many senses. Except for smell and taste, Shiroihana was as weak as an infant. The mass of auras of an army of youkai would have preceded scent and alerted Shiroihana with hours, even days depending on the army's size. But while at this stage, at the end of her pregnancy, days, perhaps only hours from giving birth, Shiroihana was too tired to be alert enough to sense the incoming auras, the approaching threat.

"He has come to kill me?" The timing was as she feared, perfect. Inutaisho knew the exact conception of his son because he had of course fathered it. He knew with nearly perfect precision when she would be incapacitated. The dark irony struck her like a blow to the chest. If she had not sent him away, Inutaisho could not have made this army, could not have done anything but what a father-to-be was supposed to do: protect his mate while pregnancy weakened her. Even Queens could not escape this weak period. Even Queens needed protection during this time. Inutaisho was supposed to be there to do just that, instead he had swooped in to steal her son, to steal her inheritance, to destroy all of the long tradition and work and greatness of her ancestors, the proud line of Queens.

She wanted to cry but did not have the strength. Momentarily she thought of Sesshomaru and prayed he was far away and could raise an army of his own to reclaim the Kosetsu, to start it again after her death and the loss of her son to Inutaisho.

"Otoutosan," she moaned, covering her face in despair.

"Lord Sesshomaru is with them, Queen Shiroihana."

Shiroihana gasped, looking at Daken with alarm. "What? What did you say?"

"They have captured him. Lord Shinkumaru and Lord Inutaisho. They will be here within the hour and demand an audience," Daken told her. His eyes were bright, wet.

Shiroihana gnashed her teeth and moaned again. _"Otoutosan!_ All is lost!_"_

"Please, Queen Shiroihana. You must make a decision. There is no time for mourning." Shaking with urgency, Daken rose from the floor and moved toward her. Dazed with grief and hopelessness, Shiroihana accepted his help, uncaring that her robe was barely secured over her enormous belly, swelling with her unborn son. The child was silent within her, unmoving, sleeping.

"The Queen has only two choices that I can see," Daken was saying, trying to act as an advisor. Shiroihana only half-heard him through the thick swirl of mourning, of misery and loss. "She must either flee completely and abandon the palace to Lord Inutaisho, or she must meet with them and strike a bargain, a return to peace."

The geckos and monkeys parted as Daken and Shiroihana passed, walking out into the darkened hallway. Shiroihana walked with Daken clutching his arm, balancing on him. Her legs hurt and in her hips there was a dull ache starting, deep, in the bones, but spreading outward around the wide curve of her belly.

"They have come to kill me," she repeated dazedly.

Daken shook his head vehemently. "I do not think Lord Inutaisho and Lord Shinkumaru seek _your_ death."

His unsaid meaning made her knees tremble and give out. _Brother, otoutosan. No!_

"You must hurry," Daken said, stooping to support her. "Do we flee or do we bargain?"

"I can't…" The child was so huge he pressed on her stomach and her lungs. A full indrawn breath was impossible. She clutched at the girth of her belly, gripping Daken with only one hand, clawing at him unconsciously. "Otoutosan…!" She began sobbing, which only disrupted her balance further. "No! Not you…"

"It is freezing outside," Daken said, speaking halfway to himself as he watched the ailing Queen, so heavy with her son that she could no longer walk. "You are in no condition to flee. There is no choice. There is no time. The Queen will be in labor soon."

Shiroihana existed in a haze of internal and growing physical pain. Daken half carried her to a dressing room and snatched an out of season kimono, too thin, too prissy for the graveness of the meeting at hand. But there was no time for anything proper. The obi and the robe did not match. Nothing did. Shiroihana's white hair was long and unclean; her face was shiny with sweat. She was barely able to stand upright for Daken as he tugged the sleeping robe from her and she was too distracted with her own body and inner turmoil to care that she stood briefly naked before the lowborn inuyoukai messenger.

After that ordeal, Daken hauled her to the audience room, the white one that was so closely located with the stairway leading up to the palace. Shiroihana sat on the platform, the position of honor, and Daken took a spot behind her, supporting her and encouraging her while they waited.

It took no more than ten minutes before youkai began spilling through the door. Bears, dogs, and even weasels, snakes and other strange creatures who Shiroihana would not have thought were intelligent enough to be loyal to Inutaisho or her father. A bear youkai raced up past Shiroihana and took guard of the door leading out of the audience room into the deeper palace. Another bear, massively built whose footsteps thumped and pounded on the floorboards, guarded the other door leading out to a different wing of Kagetsu. Shiroihana watched with hate broiling, increasing within giving her much needed strength as reality hit her, pushing aside the impending labor, the birth of her son.

It was night outside, but snow was spinning, falling from the sky. A cold draft poured in, chilling and comforting Shiroihana at once. The fresh air relieved some of her nausea.

Three figures emerged and entered her audience room, all dressed in full armor, their hair pulled back, their eyes creased with cruelty. Even Sesshomaru appeared fierce though his eyes relaxed at the edges when he looked at his sister. They did not bow to her but stood upright, their shoulders squared, ready to inflict pain, injuries, and death.

Shiroihana was breathing shallowly. "How dare you not bow before me."

Sesshomaru was standing ahead of Inutaisho and Shinkumaru. He was unarmed, though he still wore armor. He was the stillest in the room, the bravest in Shiroihana's eyes. Daken had said he had been captured but Sesshomaru was not bound in any way. There were few things that could bind an inuyoukai of his strength. Only a spell by a priest or priestess with spiritual power could do it for any length of time. This youkai army had certainly not done that. Sesshomaru was there, though disarmed and beaten—Shiroihana could see the mostly healed scrapes and yellowing bruises around his face and on his pale hands—by his own will. He had chosen not to harm either Shinkumaru or Inutaisho, but instead came willingly with them.

A little sound of dread escaped Shiroihana's lips, a hiccup. Shinkumaru and Inutaisho stood behind Sesshomaru fully armored and armed with multiple swords each. Like prison guards. Like executioners.

"Wife," Inutaisho growled, deep throated and booming. "You have been deceived, mislead by your love for your traitorous brother. Lord Shinkumaru and I have brought him together so that you may hear it from his own lips what he came to tell us. He plans to usurp you."

"Cowards, both of you!" Shiroihana shouted, surprising herself with the loudness of her voice, the power she had not known she could possess in this moment of crisis. "Coming to me when I am unable to prepare, unable to defend myself! Release Sesshomaru immediately!"

Sesshomaru had not stopped staring at his sister, his face was pale, his lips parted slightly. He seemed somehow otherworldly to Shiroihana, despite her panic, the cold wind, the army and the bears guarding the doors. She thought she could feel his love, his unyielding, undying devotion to her, to their clan. _No one is asking you to die,_ she had said to him when he left to discover the truth about Inutaisho's prophecy. But now she saw, in a flash of insight, that like her, Sesshomaru had felt the pull of destiny, of premonition. Perhaps it was what drove him to stand willingly with his enemies at his back, knowing they would cut him down.

"Speak, traitor!" Shinkumaru snarled, barely able to speak coherently with rage. His empty right sleeve fluttered in the cold breeze flying in from the cold winter world outside.

Sesshomaru did not disobey. He lifted his head proudly. "Our father does not believe a word of prophecy. He believes everything I told him about Lord Inutaisho is a lie."

"It is!" Shinkumaru interjected. "An abominable lie made by a wretched, malcontent brat that should never have been born! You are a curse on the Kosetsu clan!" He spat at his son's back and Shiroihana heard it land on her brother's armor. Though Sesshomaru did not flinch at such disrespect, Shiroihana did. Her eyes burned.

"My sister must know what I learned in the time I was away, the reason why I went to the Tengai to find her husband!" Sesshomaru called. Though his body was as stony as his face, his voice shook, trembling. "I found him there plotting to dethrone my Queen with our father!"

"You found Lord Shinkumaru and I planning only to come and tell Queen Shiroihana the truth! To shatter the lies that you have woven to deceive her into banishing her own father, betraying her mother and her lineage, and even sending me, her loving husband, away. You would even have asked her, poisoned or pleaded with her to have her kill my son when he is born! Only Queen Shiroihana's great mercy spared the unborn child." Inutaisho was determined, powerful, glorious.

Shiroihana hated him and trembled with the force of it.

"All these ridiculous tales you spun for her about Lord Inutaisho," Shinkumaru growled. "Utter nonsense! Ridiculous!" He directed his next outburst at Shiroihana. "Daughter! He is an upstart! He does not want you to have heirs of your own. He wants to destroy the Kosetsu. How could you possibly believe his nonsense about prophecies? You have carried only one child for your husband. It is only coincidence that it is a son and not a daughter. Please, you must order his death, you must condemn him!"

"Inutaisho believes the nonsense prophesized about him well enough," Shiroihana muttered, panting. She was clutching onto Daken where he supported her from behind, frantic to avoid falling down and appearing any weaker than she already did.

Inutaisho snorted. "Keh! Only fools believe such garbage. Star-readers, fortune tellers. Sesshomaru is the fool here, certain that he could deceive you with them, break us apart and keep you from birthing a true heiress, a princess, with these lies about me."

Shiroihana was speechless at the bald-faced lie. She didn't have the strength to refute him and Inutaisho had known it. She was witless, on the cusp of labor and birth. She was unable to save Sesshomaru from their slander and Sesshomaru himself was unwilling to slaughter his father and brother-in-law. She met her brother's eyes, pleading with him wordlessly, though she didn't know what she was pleading with him for.

Sesshomaru answered her, murmuring soft words. "Sister—there is another prophecy. I know no matter what they say you know the truth. Sister—there is hope—"

A guttural snarl, a sneer over Shinkumaru's face and—from Inutaisho, a flick of one hand— Shinkumaru drew his sword while Sesshomaru was talking. He had only one arm, but he propelled his sword, a long and sharp blade, between the gaps in Sesshomaru's chest armor. It happened with a suddenness that made the entire room gasp except for Shinkumaru and Inutaisho. The sword plunged through Sesshomaru's chest cavity, through the open aired space of his lungs and clanked metallically as it burrowed out the front of him, into his breast.

Sesshomaru gave a small cry, of pain and surprise. He stumbled forward as the blade penetrated, nearly falling to his knees. His eyes were as wide as Shiroihana had ever seen them.

"_Otoutosan!"_ she screeched, sounding like a bird. Her throat closed then and she could make no further sound, only hiccups of shock as the scene continued before her, as her brother's blood spilled onto the floor, dribbling in thick ropey rivulets onto the pale tatami matting, once so beautiful. It was a sight she would never forget, her brother's blood, creeping and pouring down from the edges of his armor, falling around his hakama, pooling.

Shinkumaru withdrew the blade with a grunt and that motion of backward energy corrected Sesshomaru's lurch, his stumble. Amazingly, Sesshomaru righted himself and stood erect, as tall as he could and proud. When he breathed it was soupy and wet, thick with blood. He coughed and blood gushed from his mouth, but that was enough to clear his vocal passageways, to return his voice.

"The Kosetsu will pass to—to my daughters. The bloodline—it is through me."

"Outrageous!" Shinkumaru screamed. "The lies he will tell, the nonsense he will spew—_prophecies, bah!—_just to endear himself to you, Shiroihana. Just to save himself!"

Shiroihana was choking, as if their father had stabbed her and not Sesshomaru. "Get away from otoutosan!" The stab was a life threatening one, fatal for a human, but only a handicap for an inuyoukai. If he could rest he would survive, but Shiroihana guessed this was only the beginning.

"He must die to protect your clan," Inutaisho said, cold and somber. He was glaring at Shiroihana, waiting impatiently for her to accept this sham and move on.

"Yes," Shinkumaru concurred. "Daughter, you are not to blame. Your love for Sesshomaru has weakened your mind. Listen to reason! You cannot turn your husband away; you cannot listen to Sesshomaru's traitorous advice. He does not want you to have children; he does not want you to live happily. He has always been jealous of Inutaisho, always greedy! Accept your husband, birth your child! The next one will be the daughter you need, the granddaughter Samidare always knew and held in her heart!"

Shiroihana stared in disbelief and outrage at her father. Had his continued grief for Samidare and distrust of Sesshomaru led him to this madness? She could see easily how Inutaisho had befriended him, giving him power despite his handicap, had twisted his mind further against Sesshomaru until nothing that his son could say would sway him to believe. Inutaisho denied any knowledge or belief in the prophecies that he had shared with Shiroihana, claimed innocence and loss, heartache. Perhaps he did feel heartbroken by Shiroihana's dismissal, by the threat to their son, but Shiroihana saw only his lies, his manipulation, his betrayal.

Inutaisho had probably told Shinkumaru that he had faith in the Kosetsu line, that he intended to do everything he could to see that it was passed to a daughter, even if he had to adopt one. But Shiroihana knew he would never do such a thing because it would diminish the land and grandeur for his sons to inherit. And Shinkumaru was too blind to doubt him. And Sesshomaru—too stupid to have run to them, to have walked straight into their army, into their plotting.

Her heart ached, squeezed inside her, torn in two, even three by these three men who she had so loved. _I loved all of you. All three. None of you love me enough to stop this, to end this._

"They will kill me," Sesshomaru told her. His lips and chin were coated with his own coughed up blood. There was a gathering red pool of it at his feet and spilling down the front of him. He was beginning to look quite pale but still refused to slump in weakness. "Sister—you were right. Right to make me your heir. While I was away I journeyed to the underworld. Through a hidden mountain pass. Sister, I heard my own prophecy. I am to have the heiress for the Kosetsu. I will carry the line…"

"Fool," Inutaisho spat. "Stupid, stupid fool!"

"Order his death! He has lost his mind and is trying to delude you, Daughter!" Shinkumaru yelled.

"Never! You will not kill him! I will never order it! If you do it I will—" Shiroihana shouted in pain then and clutched her belly, gasping. She fell forward as she released Daken's arm.

"Sister!" Sesshomaru cried out and Shiroihana struggled to lift her head only to see that his face had twisted with agony, he was gritting his teeth. His eyes were wet with tears. "I carry the bloodline! You will have an heiress! You will have many—when I am reborn."

Despite his bleeding, Sesshomaru turned on his heel and lunged at Inutaisho. He slashed at the older inuyoukai's face and Inutaisho bellowed with surprise, leaping out of the way. In doing so he had cleared the pathway to the door leading outside into the blinding whiteness of snow. Sesshomaru rushed for it, lurching precariously. He almost blurred, losing his physical form.

_He means for them to kill him,_ Shiroihana realized. "No! Otoutosan! _No! No!"_ She reached out, as if she could grab him and stop him, but already Sesshomaru had managed to escape and he was more than fifty feet away.

There were other youkai in the way but heedless of his wounds, the cold, his blood, or their armor and weapons, Sesshomaru cut them down. Heads rolled, literally. Blood covered the foyer and entryway. Bodies fell, twitching as they died. Sesshomaru roared, enraged, drawing emotional strength as his body waned.

Forgetting about Shiroihana, Shinkumaru and Inutaisho drew their swords and rushed after him. Shiroihana's mind spun frantically. She had never seen Inutaisho's swords in action, but knew that one was capable of killing hundreds of youkai in a single swing. That was the sword he had used most often in the war, the most famous. Yet Shiroihana had heard from Inutaisho himself that the other two swords were just as deadly. But one thing all three shared in common was that they tended to destroy on a _massive_ scale. Inutaisho therefore generally didn't use them unless there was adequate room. If he had pulled out the famous sword—Tetsusaiga—even a simple attack would have killed everyone in the confines of the audience room.

But outside, on the stairway to Kagetsu palace, or at the base, one the side of the mountain or in the pine forests surrounding it…

"Sesshomaru! No! No!" Shiroihana pitched forward, half crawling but handicapped as she used one hand to hold her belly, grunting and gnashing her teeth in pain. Daken moved after her, growling when the other youkai stepped forward as if to intercept.

"She is no threat to anyone! Leave her, you beasts!" Daken yelled.

Outside the palace, somewhere on the stair, Shiroihana heard Sesshomaru's roar, a growl. He had shed his bipedal form, adopting the true one. The earth shook and Shiroihana tumbled down, crying out as pain erupted violently through her abdomen, powerful muscles convulsed. Her stomach rippled threateningly for only one moment and then she coughed, vomiting. Daken's hands tugged on her, pulling her, talking incessantly though Shiroihana could not make out the words any longer.

She was crying, trembling uncontrollably, almost convulsing herself. Pain pierced her rhythmically, stabbing and twisting. The world spun, she heard Daken growling and shouting, felt strong arms fold around her. The scent of Sesshomaru's blood followed her, circling inside her mind.

Was the ground still shaking? Had her brother actually fled? Or was that the shake of Tetsusaiga, slashing her brother's body into confetti? Or perhaps it was a natural earthquake, a foul omen that would collapse the palace around them, trapping and killing the entire lot of them. Shiroihana didn't care anymore, her world shrank down, focused on the pain in her belly as her son at last decided that it was time to be born.

* * *

Endnote: Preview for next time!

_"He is my heir, he is my son, I have already named him Sesshomaru. He is my brother reborn. The Kosetsu Queens will fail for a generation, but when he marries his daughters will rise to replace me." Shiroihana was grinning with bitterness and triumph, but tears threatened and her lungs pulled though Shiroihana closed her lips and held her breath to stop from hiccupping as emotion promised to drown her._

_"He is my son as well!" Inutaisho roared, slamming a fist into the table. It cracked, the sound ricocheting from the walls, the ceiling, the floor. "You cannot take him away from me! It is against nature! A son must know his father!"_

_"You chose this," Shiroihana reminded him. "It is too late for you to change it."_

And thus you all know the importance of Sesshomaru's daughters in the stories _Runaway _and _Innocence._ Why Shiroihana is poking her nose in there, much to Sesshomaru's displeasure. I have really enjoyed crafting this story, the intricacies of this family and why it splintered and failed. Sesshomaru, our Sess, not Shiroihana's, does he know what she thinks he is? Or here's a better question: IS Sesshomaru, Shiroihana's son and only child, REALLY the reincarnation of her brother? What do you think?


	9. Shiroihana: Rebirth

A/N: Obviously the _Inuyasha_ manga and anime both incorporated the idea of reincarnation. Heavily. Kagome is Kikyo's reincarnation. I know that part of the culture and religion of Japan involves reincarnation too. Reincarnation is one of those cool things to play with thematically, but in Western Civ it's also foreign, even frowned on. Prophecies are also like that and a big part of a prophecy is how you interpret it, whether or not you believe in it. Sesshomaru (I) believed in it. Shiroihana did too. Shinkumaru did not. Inutaisho was able to feign disbelief to convince Shinkumaru to work with him. All the prophecies around Inutaisho were correct, but it's also possible he was lying about some of them. Why couldn't he have spies who told him about Shiroihana and her family? Did a sage really point him from the mainland to Shiroihana specifically? Or did he just hear she was available, realize he knew her family on the battlefield, and was clever enough to move in fast?

So, with prophecy/reincarnation: Is Shiroihana's son (our very own Sess!) _really_ the reincarnation of her younger brother? I feel like, almost blasphemous for incorporating it, but actually, it is all a matter of choice. Do you believe in it? Shiroihana does. You don't have to. Her brother believed. But what does her son think? I have not tried to make Sess (I) be identical to Sess (2). Kikyo and Kagome are not the same, but they are confirmed reincarnations. We look at it and see insult to the reincarnation. Kagome gets sloppy seconds after Kikyo. She has to compete with the one who came first. Does Sess (2) have to compete with the uncle he never met? How does he compare? If reincarnation does exist, there is one important thing to note: nature and nurture. Kagome and Kikyo are different because they were raised in different places, times, and even differing beliefs. Sess (2) is the same way.

Disclaimer: I do not own them. Heck, I don't even own the ideas.

* * *

Last Chapter: Sess (1) returned with Myoga with some damning information on Inutaisho. Shiroihana. betrayed by her husband, sent him packing even tho she was heavily pregnant with their son. She threatened to kill their son rather than help Inutaisho's prophecy, but promised not to do it if IT left. He did. And later Sess (1) said he had to leave too to gain info on this prophecy. After he left, Shiroihana was thoroughly depressed. Abruptly, Daken showed up a week after Sess (1)'s departure saying that Shinkumaru and IT had come back with Sess (1) to surround the castle. Shiroihana was too pregnant on the brink of giving birth to escape. She sat through a very strange audience where Shinkumaru stabbed an unflinching, unyielding Sess (1). Shinkumaru was clearly IT's pawn. Sess (1) declared that he would be reborn and his daughters would still inherit the Kosetsu after Shiroihana. Then he fled and the castle shook as if with an earthquake. Shiroihana went into full labor.

* * *

"The Source" by Rabindranath Tagore (stanzas 2 and 3)

The smile that flickers on baby's lips when he sleeps—does  
anybody know where it was born? Yes, there is a rumor that a young  
pale beam of a crescent moon touched the edge of a vanishing autumn  
cloud, and there the smile was first born in the dream of a dew  
washed morning-the smile that flickers on baby's lips when he  
sleeps.  
The sweet, soft freshness hat blooms on baby's limbs—does  
anybody know where it was hidden so long? Yes, when the mother was  
a young girl it lay pervading her heart in tender and silent  
mystery of love—the sweet, soft freshness that has bloomed on  
baby's limbs.

* * *

Shiroihana

I have sometimes dreamt that my son was not Inutaisho's, but instead conceived out of my will alone. This is not as farfetched as it sounds. When I held my son, my beloved, the finest creature I have ever known, he had nothing of Inutaisho in him. He was mine and mine alone from the moment of his birth. I named him for perfection, for beauty, for the power I could see burning in his eyes. He is my son, but he is not Inutaisho's. I saw my son, nursed him for the first time, and when he opened his eyes, I saw_ Otoutosan._

_Otoutosan,_ you got your wish.

* * *

**Rebirth**

Gradually Shiroihana realized that she had been brought out of the audience room and back to a small bedroom. Other youkai lingered about, but the room was dark and Shiroihana had trouble seeing. Her eyes were smarting, blurred constantly with moisture and pain distracted her from focusing on much else. She entered a kind of dull shock, both physical and emotional. Snatches of scenes from the white audience room hit her, agonizing, and Shiroihana pushed them back in favor of grasping the real world, the terrible cramps in her abdomen.

Occasionally the shock receded enough for her to realize that the geckos were attending her, bringing water, sponging her down, helping her sit upright to sip from a small cup.

She was a prisoner. There were bear youkai at both doors to the bedroom. The next contraction blotted out any emotion regarding the discovery.

Eventually the scent of her own blood and birthing fluids overrode the memory-stink of her brother's blood. It was comforting, but only slightly. She clutched at bed sheets, grit her teeth together and endured. There was nothing else to do and her mind shied naturally away from the brutality and trauma of moments—or was it hours? Days?—before, embracing the prospect of new life, a fresh start, of joy. This child had been long awaited; she had adored it for months before Sesshomaru made her doubt it.

But that brought on memories and emotions she could not deal with at the present. The tender moments with Inutaisho, the closeness she had also shared with her brother and father. Everything was shattered, broken and gone.

She was screaming, sobbing with both pains, physical and emotional. The geckos drew back from her, their lidless eyes circling about, the only sign of their alarm. The bear youkai growled in displeasure. Someone walked away, feet thumping heavily on the floorboards.

The pressure within her mounted. Shiroihana was certain she would split wide open, cracked like an egg. The traitorous child, Inutaisho's evil spawn, would kill her purposefully as he was born. She howled, crying for all of these men who she had loved so completely, who had each brought her in their own way to ruin. She called out for her mother, pleading for forgiveness, for help and guidance, but there was no answer.

Shiroihana saw Sesshomaru's blood dribbling, a fountain, flowing around his armor, red stains curling around his hakama. _Otoutosan! Otoutosan! _She was not aware that she was screaming it until a bear youkai shouted at her from beyond the closed screen doors: "Shut the fuck up already!"

Then, abruptly, it was over. Something slipped within her body, pushed out. The pressure shifted and changed. Following frantic instincts she did not know she possessed, Shiroihana took on a crouching position on the futon mattress and reached down between her legs. She hissed and screamed incoherently, madly, at the geckos when they came too close. She guided her son's head and shoulders out of her body. Amniotic fluid and blood gushed, the salty stink making her dizzy. Her legs trembled, but Shiroihana did not collapse until she had tucked the child, already squirming and kicking, mewling like a kitten, to her chest.

She found herself staring down at her son's face, panting, blinking sweat and tears out of her eyes, fighting to see this little face, this new male force in her life. His eyes were clamped firmly shut while his little mouth was open wide, gurgling and sucking on the air. His first cries were tenuous, uncertain, wavering.

The sound touched Shiroihana, reaching, groping inside her. His miniscule wails stabbed her with profound emotion, with hysterical elation. The light was dim, her eyes were poor in the moment, but something stood out, made her heart pound frantically and she could not breathe, could not think. Shiroihana cradled the infant's head and rubbed her sweaty, filthy palm over his forehead, trying to clear away the fluids, the blood, the mucus of birth. There was a delicate mark on his forehead, like a bruise.

Shiroihana set him down and reached for the soiled sheets. She wiped at his body, then again at his face. The baby tried to fight her meekly, hitting at her with his tiny, adorable fists. That distracted Shiroihana and she stopped to hold his hand, so miniscule, pathetic, tiny and beautiful, between two of her clawed fingers. Each little digit was perfect, incomparably beautiful. The skin was pale and white, unblemished in any way. The folds of his hand and fist, the dot-like puckers where each knuckle was indented, and each fully formed claw, still soft from the womb, fascinated her and drove out the dark memories of death, of loss.

When his forehead recaptured her attention Shiroihana began to sob. The tears landed on her son's chest as it heaved, flexing up and down, on his face, contorted and reddened by birth and by his unceasing wails. Shiroihana saw the infant's markings: the smooth pink-red on his cheeks, two per side. The color was her own, but the shape and the fact that there were two of them made her think at once of her brother.

But most miraculous of all was the miniature crescent moon on his forehead in a faded purple. He was poisonous. He had the mark of the Kosetsu, the crescent moon which noted Queens, heiresses and princesses.

Her son's thin wailing continued while Shiroihana stared down at the helpless little boy, astonished, dumbfounded. Sesshomaru's last words to her echoed through the closed darkness of the room, over her newborn son's shrieking. _"I carry the bloodline! You will have an heiress! You will have many—when I am reborn."_

"Reborn," she breathed. "Reborn." She scooped up her infant son and cradled him to her, crying tears without the heaving sobs of grief and mourning. She stroked his hair, still damp from birth, getting cold in the chilly air. "Otoutosan," she whispered, closing her eyes and rocking. _"Sesshomaru._"

Shiroihana cut the cord herself, using her own claws. The pains of labor had mostly vanished, but the afterbirth was still to come and she had not finished bleeding. The rest of the world came crashing back into her. Shiroihana realized there were three geckos standing aimlessly in the room, licking their eyes with their tongues to clean them. She called to them hoarsely, baring her teeth with a sudden surge of ferocity and inner strength. "Get me a black robe and bring swaddling for my son."

The scrambled to do what she had ordered and minutes later, filthy with sweat, her legs still coated and sticky with every kind of foul body fluid imaginable, Shiroihana was up and moving. The geckos followed her, their bubble eyes rolling as if unattached in their sockets.

At the sliding door Shiroihana encountered the bear youkai. There were four of them and the sight of her made them clearly uncomfortable. Bear youkai were loners. Except for mating, the males never dealt with their females long enough to see or even scent them giving birth. Shiroihana's presence and her scent, even the newborn, disgusted them. They shifted uneasily, unsure what to do or say now that she was finished with the excruciating act of labor and delivery.

"What are you doing here?" Shiroihana barked, snarling. "This is my palace, these are my lands. Leave or I will kill you."

Obviously they thought her threat was empty and it was a safe bet. After all, she was bleeding, hobbling, and she was cradling a newborn infant to her chest. She smelled of breast milk, chokingly rich and thick.

"Don't move," one of the bears said. He was especially dense in build, supremely confident in his own strength. "We have to get Lord Inutaisho…"

Shiroihana shifted, pressing her son against her chest in a position to hold him with only one hand. She freed the right one and flicked her fingers and her wrist. Green spectral energy flowed from her fingers down into a long strand that coiled about on the floor.

The biggest of the bears was snarling at her. His canines were massive, like spears beside the other teeth in his mouth. "Stupid bitch."

Shiroihana snapped the whip through the air, catching him around the neck. The bear was choking immediately. Shiroihana gave a small, precise motion of wrists, forearm, and fingers, tugging the whip in just such a way…

The bear's head snapped clean from his body, in the same way that children play games by popping the flower heads from dandelions. It thumped on the floor and rolled. The metallic, salty stink of blood entered the air, instantly overwhelming Shiroihana's birth and milk smells. The enormous body fell to the floor with a heavy, thick thud. It squelched on the blood.

The other three bears growled but backed away as Shiroihana flicked the whip again, snapping it in warning. Shiroihana let the whip disappear, vanishing into the air. Her son was crying, wailing into her ears. Shiroihana cuddled him, stroked his cheek. Then she stepped barefoot through the bear's blood, marching after the three who had run from her.

She could afford no weakness, no delay. And she absolutely could not allow herself to be separated from the newborn.

As she walked through the open, freezing night air of the terrace, following the auras of the bears and, distantly, Shinkumaru and Inutaisho's as well. There was snow and ice on the terrace and the wind howled, ripping at Shiroihana's hair and clothing. She cradled her son closer to her, cooing in his ear and sheltered his head with one hand and her cheek. Her feet were painful with each step, stinging and numb. By the time she had thrown open the sliding doors to the west wing of the palace, Shiroihana had steeled herself for confrontation, for whatever awaited her.

She caught sight and scent of the bears, two of them outside a study room where Samidare had spent endless hours teaching Shiroihana to read and write. The third bear was inside talking in a deep, rapid voice. Before Shiroihana could do anything to announce herself or attack them, the bears outside the study jerked their heads in her direction, hearing the wails of the infant. They shouted in alarm and from inside the room, Inutaisho dismissed them with loud irritation. "Get out then! Run if you're afraid!"

The bears did not run, but they did leave. Shiroihana advanced slowly on the room, giving the bears time to flee. She didn't want gawkers or onlookers or eavesdroppers. Whatever was to happen should be fast and honorable.

It was not something that Shinkumaru and Inutaisho had allowed Sesshomaru to have. The charade, the spectacle, the insult to Shiroihana, her brother, the Kosetsu, and Kagetsu palace deserved death and dismemberment. That it had been perpetrated by her _father_ was infuriating. It was unforgiveable.

Daken staggered out of the study room and dropped to his knees, bowing to her. "Queen Shiroihana…"

Shiroihana's hold on her infant son tensed. "Daken," she said. "Are you trying to stop me?"

"You are not well," Daken stammered. "I was sent to—"

"Perhaps my father and husband plan to murder me while I sleep after the stress of the birth," she said, tightly.

"Queen Shiroihana—"

"Tell me about my brother," Shiroihana demanded.

Daken had always been loyal to the Kosetsu. Shiroihana could see the strain in his shoulders, the tenseness of his back. He did not lift his eyes. Shiroihana thought it was a sign of his shame that he had to report such news. "Lord Sesshomaru took on his true form outside on the stairs. There is considerable damage. He decimated Lord Inutaisho's army. Lord Shinkumaru and Lord Inutaisho followed him and attacked with their swords. Lord Inutaisho…" Daken hesitated and Shiroihana heard him swallow. "Lord Inutaisho used the Tenseiga on the Queen's brother—_zangetsuha—_and opened a path to the Underworld. Lord Sesshomaru is gone, dead."

"With no trace," Shiroihana murmured. A cramp cut through her abdomen, still distended by the stretch of labor and carrying the pup for so long. Blood dripped down her legs, alarmingly hot on her skin, like the infant's breath.

"My greatest sympathies, Queen Shiroihana."

Holding her head high, her shoulders back, Shiroihana advanced. Daken watched her with alarm. "My Queen—"

"Get out of the way," she ordered.

Daken moved in an awkward, spidery position, creeping away from the entryway of the room. Shiroihana passed him and moved into the doorway, leaving half-moons of bloody footprints to mark her path.

Shinkumaru and Inutaisho were sitting together in the study room. Over the large writing table they had spread out maps and documents. Dimly Shiroihana smelled their ink. They had been as busy as she had. But the fruits of their labor had not been pure and innocent. Shiroihana recognized her will set out before them, blotted out, destroyed.

The two men stared at her with mixtures of anger, disapproval, and alarm. They paled as they registered her blood and heard the thin cries of the newborn pressed to her chest.

"Daughter, have you lost your mind?" Shinkumaru asked. "Go rest! Lay down!"

Shiroihana thought of Samidare. _I will be ruthless. _

She stepped into the room, leaving trails of blood droplets and footprints on the matting. While they watched, speechless, astonished, Shiroihana sat slowly, grimacing with pain, at the opposite end of the table. Shiroihana sensed Daken lingering just outside, but did not know just yet where his loyalties would lie.

"Father," she began, hoarsely, quietly, barely audible over the shrill cries of her son. "Inutaisho has lied to you. He spoke the prophecies himself to me and I told them to Otoutosan."

"You are delirious," Inutaisho said, dismissively. "I am not the superstitious fool that your traitorous brother claimed."

"No, you are just a superstitious killer," Shiroihana shot back.

"Spoken by my wife who threatened to kill our son!" Inutaisho snapped, glaring.

"You have no interest in him now," Shiroihana muttered. She leveled a glare at her father. "I will show you just how thoroughly Inutaisho cares about our tradition. I do this to punish you, I do this for Otoutosan."

"Lord Inutaisho is right, Daughter, you are delirious," Shinkumaru said, shaking his head. "Must we force you to lie down and rest?"

Shiroihana raised her voice, aiming it at Inutaisho. "I will give into you, Husband. I will give you what you want and thought you could take from me: the Kosetsu."

Shinkumaru hissed, snarling with outrage. "What—"

"I give it to you with some conditions," Shiroihana went on, ignoring her father and the pain in her abdomen, the trickle of blood from between her legs, the whimpered cries of her son, beginning to smell of hunger. "First I will keep this palace; I will rule the Kosetsu as a province, a small part of the grander lands that you have planned for your son to inherit. The rest of the lands are yours, and after you my son—our son—will inherit the entirety of the lands, including the Kosetsu. I demand a share in your quest to conquer the lands surrounding the Tengai and the Kosetsu, I want to help you add more land for our son to rule over."

"How _dare_ you!" Shinkumaru spluttered. He looked between Inutaisho, who wore a blank but mildly startled expression, and his daughter who was bleeding, stony, clutching the tiny, wailing newborn to her shoulder and chest. "This is ludicrous! Has everyone lost their minds! Lord Inutaisho, tell her she is mad! The Kosetsu can never be incorporated into the Tengai! It is unique! It must always stand alone!" He gestured toward the infant. "This whelp cannot be made the heir so soon! Daughter, you are not thinking straight. You will have strong daughters with Inutaisho now that the threat of Sesshomaru is gone…"

"Are you interested?" Shiroihana demanded, addressing her husband.

Inutaisho did not spare Shinkumaru a glance. He nodded solemnly. "Yes."

"_What?!"_ Shinkumaru jumped to his feet, ready to strike someone, though just who was not yet clear.

"For Otoutosan," Shiroihana whispered, aiming the words at her son's tiny pointed ears. She raised one hand and flicked, sending the spectral green whip suddenly, with no warning, into the air. It coiled around Shinkumaru's neck just as it had with the bear's. The old man's eyes bulged wide, his mouth lolled as he fought to breath and tried to sever the line of the whip. Green light reflected from Inutaisho's face, lighting the corners around his nose and under his eyes.

Shiroihana jerked it and Shinkumaru's head separated from his body, falling. The scent of blood was chokingly thick. The sound of it pulsing as it left his body, as his heart pumped it out, slow to realize it was no longer needed, was unbearably loud.

After a pause, Inutaisho sat back, tense and ready to defend himself, though the baby kept him unmoving, unwilling to injure his son in killing the mother. "Do you plan to kill me, too?" he asked. "We may have daughters together. Prophecies can be wrong." He paused and then sighed, as if releasing some tension, but his shoulders were still rigid, his posture too erect. "I am sorry for Sesshomaru. His death was quick, more honorable than the stab wounds Shinkumaru inflicted."

"He stabbed at your silent sign," Shiroihana pointed out, snarling. "But I am not interested in making daughters with you. I am holding my heir. I was not lying to punish my father. It was the truth."

This news changed Inutaisho, he blinked and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. The sigh he emitted this time was real. "I did not want it to be like this. You must believe me. I did not believe you when you said you would not kill our son. I was enraged! I wanted to punish you! I raised the army, I set your father against you—and then Sesshomaru came and tried to negotiate…" He bared his teeth, snarling at the air, at the memory. "The gall…I could see he wanted me gone, wanted our son dead."

"You're wrong," Shiroihana bit out.

"You were blinded by affection," Inutaisho told her. There was a strange look on his face, a mixture of bitterness and sadness. "I marched on this place after Sesshomaru came to us spouting about how his daughters would inherit after you. He was a threat, Shiroihana. If he had been allowed to keep the Kosetsu while our sons rule the Western Lands—the Tengai, the expanded Tengai—there would have been strife, civil war. There would be no peace. I wanted unity, safety for our son to grow in." His golden eyes landed on the little bundle of his newborn son and stayed there with sudden hunger, need. "I had no idea you had spoken the truth. If Sesshomaru had not come when he did we would have waited until the spring."

Shiroihana had thought he was taking advantage of the timing of impending birth, but it turned out his actions had been as a result of Sesshomaru's timing—which _had_ been affected by thoughts of the approaching birth. Shiroihana stroked her son's back, delayed the desire to feed him a little longer to hide his face.

"I am in your debt," Inutaisho announced, breathily. "I wanted to stop when I realized you were about to give birth. But we were committed. Shiroihana—" While talking Inutaisho moved around the table, coming closer to her, motioning with his hands. "Please, let us start over. My affection for you has not changed. Please, I beg you, do not send me away again. Let me see my son…"

He held his hands out to her, palms up.

Shiroihana imagined she could still smell her brother's blood on them. She did not move, only glared and stroked her son's back, his white hair.

"You are determined to hurt me," Inutaisho muttered, withdrawing his hands and bowing his head.

"You were determined to hurt me. You already have. I will never forgive you. I _cannot."_ Her throat convulsed, her chest tightened, but Shiroihana would not cry. The answer was living, squirming with hunger in her arms. _Reborn._ "There will only be justice when you are dead."

"You ask me to go away? To end my own life?" Inutaisho glared defiantly at her. "You would deny our child his father?"

"I do not," Shiroihana said. "I will punish you while you live, and wait for you to die. My demands—"

"More of them?" Inutaisho asked, growling closed-lipped. "The Kosetsu is still yours, but passes to our son. You are welcome to join my quest for land. I welcome you. I have never sought to hurt you, only to do what is best, what is right."

Shiroihana ignored his plea as the falsehood she knew it was. "My demands are not yet finished. Our son's education, every effort in raising him, is at my discretion. You will only interact with him with my permission until he reaches maturity. I will name him. You will be a shadow in his life." When Inutaisho snarled with rage, ready to interrupt, Shiroihana yelled over him, "You lost this privilege when you murdered my brother, when you did not tell me the truth from the beginning!"

"You have never loved me. Why not also demand our marriage dissolved? Why not allow us both to move on?" Inutaisho demanded, his clawed hands fisted with fury.

Shiroihana's eyes narrowed with hate. "I loved you once. You lost that as well by your own actions. And now I leave our marriage standing for my son's benefit, for Sesshomaru."

"What does _he_ have to do with it?" Inutaisho raged.

Shiroihana's smile had changed, becoming larger with a bitter triumph. She shifted the screaming baby and turned him in her arms, supporting his head, showing him for the first time to his father. The little red face, clamped down with the effort of his wailing, pinched unhappily, still showed the crescent moon of the Kosetsu clearly.

Inutaisho's face blanked and bleached with shock. "He has—"

"He is my heir, he is my son, I have already named him Sesshomaru. He is my brother reborn. The Kosetsu Queens will fail for a generation, but when he marries his daughters will rise to replace me." Shiroihana was grinning with bitterness and triumph, but tears threatened and her lungs pulled though Shiroihana closed her lips and held her breath to stop from hiccupping as emotion promised to drown her.

"He is my son as well!" Inutaisho roared, slamming a fist into the table. It cracked, the sound ricocheting from the walls, the ceiling, the floor. "You cannot take him away from me! It is against nature! A son must know his father!"

"You chose this," Shiroihana reminded him. "It is too late for you to change it."

She stood upright and felt her abdomen ripple with discomfort, tightening. Blood spilled from her, dribbling, splattering against Shiroihana's legs, robe, and the floor. Inutaisho was baring his teeth but his golden eyes darted between her legs, the infant, and her face. It was worry that narrowed his eyes now, not just rage.

"You are not well…"

"No—but I require no help from anyone. You have only hindered me." The smell of blood in the room was rich and nauseating, not only from Shiroihana, but also from Shinkumaru's headless body. She lifted her chin into the air with a snobbish pride that should have been impossible considering her disheveled, filthy state. "Take your army and leave at once or I will forbid you from ever seeing my son."

Before he could fight her or agree, Shiroihana turned her back on him and left the room. Out in the hallway Daken followed her without looking at her and Shiroihana ignored him though inwardly she took strength from his presence. Lowborn and weak compared to her or Inutaisho or Shinkumaru, Daken had unquestionably stayed beside her in the audience room, in spite of the inherent danger to himself. And now he had made no effort to stop her from confronting her father or her husband. She had been uncertain of his loyalties, but now she did not doubt them. Inutaisho could have him killed for failing to stop her, or for helping her, being too close to her while she labored which had surely triggered a jealous instinct inside the new father.

This messenger served the Queens and the Kosetsu, not the victor. In spite of danger for his life, Daken was still _hers._

Shiroihana retreated to the internal bathhouse and waited impatiently, uncomfortably, as monkeys and geckos scrambled to draw the water and heat it. When the task was done at last, Shiroihana slipped out of the soiled robe and into the warm, pleasing water. The cramps in her abdomen soothed though the clean, clear water instantly darkened and clouded with blood and other contaminants. In the safety and comfort of the water, Shiroihana's newborn son calmed, his wailing slowed and the warm water made him limp, relaxed.

At last Shiroihana let her little son nurse. His hungry, moist lips and mouth closed on her nipple and his clawed hands kneaded into her chest. Shiroihana gazed down at his small face and stroked it. She found herself cooing to him and weeping with bittersweet joy. "Sesshomaru," she cooed, "Sesshomaru, my baby."

For the first time, the infant's eyes drifted open. The color of his irises was unclear, a little gray, but already specks of amber-gold had begun to darken and take shape. He would have the same eye color as his mother and father, but already Shiroihana could see her own features in her son. Inutaisho was lacking, unclear. She thought she detected hints in her son's nose and lips that could have been her brother's, but were just as likely her own genetic influence. He did not overtly resemble her brother, but was instead a new form bearing a striking closeness to his mother, as if he had sprouted from her without Inutaisho's input at all.

Though he looked mostly like his mother, Shiroihana thought she saw resentment in the baby's eyes, irritation. "Otoutosan," she whispered to him as he suckled in her arms. "Forgive me for my weakness. You were right all along."

* * *

Inutaisho's forces departed without incident. They left flattened trees, villages in disarray, and scattered fires in their wake but those were miniscule losses. The cold weather resumed, life continued.

The absence of Sesshomaru, of Shiroihana's brother, was difficult to accept. Shiroihana found herself waking after dreaming of his presence and then painfully recalling that he was gone. Banished by the Tenseiga's zangetsuha. There was not even a body to mourn.

She carried her son with her around the palace, tucked inside her robes, close to her body. She did not dress like a Queen, but instead chose comfort and simplicity. She thought about little else except her son. He was beautiful and strong. Already his hands could clasp and hold tightly. His eyes were bright and keenly intelligent. He ate ravenously and had a prosperous pot belly.

There was only one problem with this perfect son. Shiroihana had a difficult time calling him by his name. She considered changing it but could not think of another and when she stared into her son's face she could not stop herself from seeing her brother's spirit in his eyes. It was strongest in the days and weeks following his birth. Shiroihana felt that her brother's soul stared out at her with vague resentment and frustration. He was hampered by the infant's body, unable to speak or communicate with her. But as he grew the infant's stare became one of adoration and love.

Human sages said that in cases of reincarnation the soul inhabiting the new body gradually forgets its past life. Shiroihana watched it happen day after day. Her son's golden eyes became warm and simple, filled with contentment and love. He was at peace. He was happy.

Shiroihana cradled him at night and listened for the sounds of his dreams. Were the little growls and barks the cries of her brother's lingering, half-forgotten frustration? Was he reliving the passage into the underworld, the horror and pain of his death, of the betrayal by Shinkumaru and Inutaisho and even his beloved sister who was too weak to save him?

By the time the weather had warmed, Shiroihana was occasionally calling her son by his name, but it stung her lips and Sesshomaru did not seem to mind whether she used his name or not.

The warm weather, the melting of the snow, also brought Inutaisho. Shiroihana returned to her role as Queen, though it was painful to leave her son in the care of the monkeys and geckos. It would be a few years before he could actually begin learning under a teacher, but Shiroihana was already thinking about who she would employ. _But who will teach him to fight?_ She asked herself. Traditionally it would be a male relative—a father.

_He has no father. I am his all. His everything._

But Inutaisho's letters and messengers constantly sought news and rights to the tiny baby. Inutaisho wanted to claim his son, to raise him, to teach him, to mold him in his image of a proper and powerful son. Shiroihana wanted to watch him bleed, to make him suffer. She turned away his gifts and told Inutaisho in her own letters that _her son_ was doing well and that she felt certain this child was the reincarnation of her brother.

Inutaisho insisted that that was nonsense, utter garbage, but Shiroihana knew it would trouble him, disturb him on a deep level. Contrary to what Inutaisho said she knew he was superstitious and would be inclined to believe it.

Eventually the gifts and apologies came to a halt. Inutaisho began writing to her more as a cold, distant ally. Sometimes Shiroihana thought she detected threats underlying his messages, especially when he spoke of the expanding Tengai, the lands he planned one day to spread out from the eastern sea to the western one. From coast to coast. Lands that he would pass to his sons. The Western Lands.

As long as the baby, little Sesshomaru, son of Shiroihana, was under her control, Shiroihana had no fear of the possibility of Inutaisho's attack. He would not harm his own heir, even if the child was out of his control, apart from his influence.

Shiroihana answered his letters that summer in the same cold manner. Gradually they began to form a relationship of business, of conquest. By the time autumn came Shiroihana was taking her own initiative and conducting meetings with surrounding clans and families of human warriors, coercing them in one way or another, into pledging their allegiance to the Kagetsu and the Tengai, to the Western Lands. Each plot of land added became another tiny province or district.

The Western Lands began to form, spreading outward from west to east, north to south. Its future ruler, the baby Sesshomaru, was only just starting to cut his teeth on soft meat.

* * *

Endnote: So this time we learned an interesting tidbit. Zangetsuha sent Sess (1) to the underworld. Inutaisho bequeathed Tenseiga, with the Zangetsuha, to Sess (2). How insulting is that?? I watched the episode where Tetsusaiga steals Zangetsuha from Tenseiga. Wow. Inupapa really didn't care for his pureblooded son. I have trouble finding any clear indication of affection between them revealed in the series. I have trouble believing it wasn't there though. He must have loved him. BUT it is also clear to me that something BIG got in the way.

That thing in the way, in my mind, is Shiroihana. The infamous Sessmom. But next time we get to see Sesshy as we never have before...

_He nursed from her for seven years, never biting or purposefully drawing blood with his sharp little claws. But as he aged the desire and instinct to test his strength, to assert dominance and test his boundaries, grew uncontrollable. He enjoyed the closeness with his mother, her rich and comforting scent, the hum of pleasure in her throat while he suckled, the touch of her hands on his face and hair, her golden eyes staring down into his own._

_Then she was gone for a week and Sesshomaru made due with meat and some of his first vegetables and fruits. The eating experience was not bad and Sesshomaru had more than enough teeth to chew his food, but he missed the comforting intimacy and contact with his mother, the single greatest force and presence in his existence. When more than a few days passed and she did not return to nurse him, Sesshomaru began to feel angry._

_When his mother returned and Sesshomaru, who shared a bed with her at that tender age, nestled into her, eager to nurse, she was reluctant. Eventually she gave in. Sesshomaru was not truly hungry or in need of some nourishment that solid foods lacked. What he craved was the connection between himself and his mother. And as he clamped down on her breast he found that the milk was unwilling. He kneaded and sucked, but the taste was thin, unrewarding._

For writing this upcoming chapter I had the added inspiration of a real puppy, running around until she's exhausted, yapping, playing, chewing...you know. Adorable little handful. But life is not all rainbows and butterflies even for the little Prince of the Western Lands and the Kosetsu. ...

Inutaisho and Izayoi's story is coming soon, but I needed to tell a little wrap up...and I couldn't resist writing about Sess as a baby.


	10. Sesshomaru: First Kill

A/N: Now I originally thought I would not tell this story with Sesshomaru's voice until the third and last parts. But now that I come near to the end of Shiroihana's portion, I felt an instinct to include a chapter with Sesshomaru as a child, to give insight on his childhood. Obviously Sesshomaru did know his father. Considering his parents' last meeting, how did that come about? This chapter gives me a chance to setup Sesshomaru's earliest childhood, including his major mommy and daddy issues.

Because let's face it, our beloved Sess has parental issues. Sessmom in the manga (and now in "Inuyasha the final act") is…unstable? Conniving? I don't know, she's so enigmatic as to be almost anything. She appears to care for her son, but after a fashion. A manipulative and "how much fun can I get out of your visit?" fashion. Inutaisho might have been more stable, but his actions in the manga and anime clearly show he wasn't all that affectionate. The scene on the beach in the third movie strikes me as bitter, cold, even borderline angry. Inutaisho didn't seem to think Sess had the best intentions for him, asking if he would kill him and whatnot. So mommy-daddy issues. BIG TIME. Sesshomaru is pitiable in this light!

And for me, writing his little first-person blurb will also be interesting. Sess is a creature of few words. So he isn't going to gush like Shiroihana did, not now, not ever. His blurbs will be short, to the point, and leave a lot of things out. They also will not be aimed at you as an audience, but be fashioned like letters. Letters he was writing to a parent, ally, or a teacher. Or even records or assignments. I might even employ some that are aimed to characters from _Innocence_ or _Return_/_Runaway _(Like say...the adult Rin, his wife. Or to Hanone and Saya, his daughters). To help with these blurbs I am going to include what it is he's writing (he won't always say what it is so I have to tell you) under his name at the beginning of each chapter. Also his perspective will be much more omniscient third person. I will stick close to him, but delve outside what he knows in order to fill the gap of time that has passed. At least for this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own them.

* * *

Last chapter: Sess (2) was born. Shiroihana killed Shinkumaru and made a deal with Inutaisho. Inutaisho left after learning that she had named their son Sess after her brother and that he is not to be apart of Sess (2)'s life. Afterwards the Western Lands began to take shape with both Inutaisho and Shiroihana working on it.

* * *

Then just within the gate I saw a child, --  
A stranger-child, yet to my heart most dear;  
He held his hands to me, and softly smiled  
With eyes that knew no shade of sin or fear:  
"Come in," he said, "and play awhile with me;"  
"I am the little child you used to be."

A Child in the Garden by Henry Van Dyke (stanza 2)

* * *

Sesshomaru

(Calligraphy Assignment practicing Name/Heritage/Formal and Informal Characters)

My name is Se-sho-maru. Sesshomaru. I am ten years old. I am the son of Queen Shiroihana of the Kosetsu. I am heir to the Western Lands.

Honorable Mother says today I will meet the Lord of the Western Lands. Great Dog General, Lord Inutaisho. Honorable Father.

_Chichiue_ is his title.

Sensei Kuenai has told stories of Honorable Father. Mother does not.

I am Se-sho-maru.

* * *

**First Kill**

At ten years old the heir of the Western Lands was developmentally equal to a human child of about half that age. Sesshomaru was boundlessly curious and his days were filled with wonder and adventure though he had not yet left the Kosetsu and Kagetsu castle. He was constantly under the watchful eye of adults. His teacher, the notable inuyoukai Kuenai, his mother when she was not busy, or occasionally the messenger turned babysitter Daken.

(A/N: Readers of my other stories will recognize Daken and Kuenai. They're both recurring characters in Sesshomaru's household. Kuenai later teaches Rin and Sesshomaru's daughters.)

There were other caretakers too. Monkeys and geckos who sometimes delighted Sesshomaru by playing with him. The monkeys, though they weren't inuyoukai and smelled odd to Sesshomaru, were of a playful nature. They hooted and hollered when he splashed them in baths and wrestled with him in fresh bed sheets. The geckos were entertaining because they could climb and hang upside down on the walls and ceilings with their sticky, fleshy fingertips. Sesshomaru ran after them on all fours, yapping and yelling, growling and snarling until they ran up the walls. Sesshomaru taunted them and tried to jump after them until his eyelids drooped with exhaustion and his mother, or Kuenai, or one of the moneys came and took him to bed.

For many years after he first began walking and rudimentarily talking, no one chastised him for behaving in such a way. His mother watched with amusement and in those days she had not yet hired Kuenai to begin formal instruction. She sometimes ordered the geckos or monkeys to sit still and not to run from Sesshomaru while he chewed on them or clawed them, sometimes drawing blood.

But when Sesshomaru used the same violent play on his mother, things changed.

He nursed from her for seven years, never biting or purposefully drawing blood with his sharp little claws. But as he aged the desire and instinct to test his strength, to assert dominance and test his boundaries, grew uncontrollable. He enjoyed the closeness with his mother, her rich and comforting scent, the hum of pleasure in her throat while he suckled, the touch of her hands on his face and hair, her golden eyes staring down into his own.

Then she was gone for a week and Sesshomaru made due with meat and some of his first vegetables and fruits. The eating experience was not bad and Sesshomaru had more than enough teeth to chew his food, but he missed the comforting intimacy and contact with his mother, the single greatest force and presence in his existence. When more than a few days passed and she did not return to nurse him, Sesshomaru began to feel angry.

When his mother returned and Sesshomaru, who shared a bed with her at that tender age, nestled into her, eager to nurse, she was reluctant. Eventually she gave in. Sesshomaru was not truly hungry or in need of some nourishment that solid foods lacked. What he craved was the connection between himself and his mother. And as he clamped down on her breast he found that the milk was unwilling. He kneaded and sucked, but the taste was thin, unrewarding.

His mother scolded him. "Sesshomaru—you're growing too big for this." She stroked his hair, traced the crescent moon on his forehead.

Sesshomaru gazed up at her in mounting irritation. He did not give up on the milk and recognized that he was making his mother uncomfortable, but he didn't care. Sesshomaru was angry with her for being gone as long as she had been and then pulling this stunt on her return. He did not understand that the milk was not under her control and assumed that she was withholding the heavier flow to punish him.

He bit her hard enough to prick the skin, drawing blood in a fine circle around her areola and nipple.

His mother pinched his ear, forcing Sesshomaru to let go. He growled at her and scratched her hands with his tiny claws. Shiroihana scolded him and then, furiously, restrained him and took him to a different bedroom. She stood outside the door all night while Sesshomaru raged inside, crying and howling and whimpering.

It was the first night he had spent outside of his mother's bed. Truly alone.

By morning he was red-eyed and subdued. He glared at his mother distrustfully. He did not ask to nurse again. By scent he recognized that the milk was drying up inside of her. She became a hard thing to him for the first time in his life, a solid rock that he clung to and despised all at once.

Master Kuenai came to be his teacher then. Sesshomaru found the male inuyoukai a threat at first. He growled and barked and did not speak to him. While his mother and Kuenai discussed him, Sesshomaru sat outside the white audience room, listening with keen ears.

"Queen Shiroihana—your son has a long journey ahead of him. He is wild and feral, but I have worked miracles before and your son will not be my greatest challenge," Kuenai said.

"You're certain, Sensei?" Sesshomaru's mother asked. Her voice was thin.

"Queen, you cannot remember your own distant youth. Little Lord Sesshomaru is only seven. I have seen twelve year olds and teenagers who acted the same way. I can see you're worried that he is underdeveloped, but he is completely normal." He paused and then sighed. "Of course the young lord's behavior is made further unruly by the fact that he has no male role model. Male pups are always more troublesome and violent than females. I am sure Queen Shiroihana was a perfect child who required no discipline."

Sesshomaru's mother laughed. "Sensei, please…"

"I am not exaggerating. Daughters are always easier to teach and control at this young age than sons are. I have seen flawless daughters, but never a naturally peaceable and agreeable son. Lord Sesshomaru will take longer to control because his father is absent." Kuenai was uncomfortable. He fell silent.

Shiroihana grunted, indelicately. "I can see what you want to say, Sensei. You wish me to send for my husband."

"The boy has never seen his father," Kuenai said.

The word they were using was unfamiliar to Sesshomaru. He pressed his head to the door, as if hearing the conversation a little better would make the word's meaning come clear to him.

"I did not feel Inutaisho's presence was necessary for his development."

"It is not," Kuenai agreed. "But there is physical development as well emotional and social. The young lord must master all of these things. You have not taken into thought the power of a male role model on a male pup."

"My hope was that you, Sensei, could provide that for him."

Kuenai chortled, uncomfortable again. "My Queen, my apologies. I am a teacher. I am an instructor. I am not a warrior and I am not a lord. I am not a proper role model or father figure for your son."

"I see," Shiroihana murmured.

The conversation drifted into details of payment and housing, and what exactly and when Kuenai would teach Sesshomaru. Sesshomaru lost interest in this and left his eavesdropping when a monkey passed by in the hall behind him, squawking in disapproval when it spotted Sesshomaru leaning against the audience door. Sesshomaru sped after it on all fours, barking and yapping and shouting.

Two days later he found himself sitting in a small, stuffy room filled with parchment paper and ink and palettes of sand. Kuenai set the tools in front of Sesshomaru and then gently closed the young child's clawed hands around the clumsy brush.

"This is how you hold it," he said.

Sesshomaru curled his lip in irritation and tried to let go. Kuenai held him in place and slapped his hands. Sesshomaru howled in rage and alarm. The tantrum that resulted lasted for several long minutes, but Kuenai did not give up and eventually Sesshomaru stopped crying and reluctantly submitted. The first lessons actually intrigued him and soon Kuenai was not the monster he had feared, but a sort of strange playmate.

First Sesshomaru practiced holding a stick as a stand in for a real brush. Then he made strokes through the little canvas of sand. Stroke after stroke until his wrists ached. Sometimes he tried using a claw and Kuenai applauded him for the ingenuity, but cautioned him that one day he would have to stop the practice because when they switched from sand to paper he would only succeed in shredding it.

Sesshomaru's fine-motor skills were abysmal, but Sesshomaru enjoyed the painstaking lessons. His little mind expanded and filled with joy when he could please his teacher.

The speech lessons were not as enjoyable. Kuenai would take the mock brush and the sand canvases away and sit down in front of Sesshomaru, looking him in the eye. Sesshomaru was unaccustomed to this directness. He evaded Kuenai's gaze and growled when Kuenai tried to force the issue.

"You must stare at me in the eye when you talk. Introduce yourself."

Sesshomaru growled. "No."

Another tantrum ensued.

Kuenai counseled Shiroihana to summon Inutaisho, to encourage father and son to bond. Shiroihana was unwilling and although she did not become angry and did not dismiss the idea completely she did not write to Inutaisho and invite him to Kagetsu.

* * *

In the time since Sesshomaru's birth, Inutaisho and Shiroihana had worked to unite a single mass of lands. It had no true name exactly, but because it originated from the Kosetsu and the Tengai, both of which were westerly lands, the area became known as the Western Lands. It was a joint operation by Inutaisho and Shiroihana. Shiroihana sent envoys and messengers to clans and families, little territories, demanding allegiance from them. She was ostensibly willing to let them continue ruling amongst themselves as long as they served _her_ and Inutaisho.

It was not an entirely peaceful or warlike union, but a mix of both. Some youkai clans gave way willingly, eager to support Inutaisho or Shiroihana or both. They recognized the superior power and presence of inuyoukai leadership and committed themselves to it. Many of the demons knew Inutaisho by name and legend from the panther war only a few years earlier.

The humans were the most bothersome. They frequently attacked kitsune messengers on sight and reviled the idea of serving some sort of evil, supernatural creature.

Whether the group was human or youkai, if they failed to negotiate and pledge loyalty to Shiroihana and Inutaisho and the expanding "Western" lands, death came to them swiftly. Ruling elite amongst demon and youkai alike were slaughtered. Inutaisho had a multitude of followers in every shape and form. He was legendary, magnificent.

As the lands came under one single power, Shiroihana and Inutaisho carved up the territories into provinces and assigned underling rulers. A series of outposts sprang up throughout the new lands. Palaces and castles for Shiroihana or Inutaisho to stay while traveling.

When Sesshomaru was seven the conquest of the Western Lands had finished. However, just because the initial work was finished did not mean that Shiroihana and Inutaisho were free to retire from their political lives. A network of messengers, spies, and official reporting channels for collecting taxes and portions of the harvest, as well as willing workers to staff the new outposts and castles being built all over the Western Lands, all of these living webs of servants and underlings had to be put in place. Shiroihana and Inutaisho understood that Sesshomaru's inheritance would be under constant threat from within. They needed spies, hidden ears listening everywhere.

It was only three years later, when Sesshomaru was ten, that the first little uprising threatened the unity of the Western Lands. And it was this brief mutiny, lead by a mixed group of bear youkai and humans, that brought Inutaisho and Sesshomaru together at last.

It also marked the first time that Sesshomaru faced an attack, an attempt by another living being to take his life.

* * *

After three years of instruction by Kuenai, Sesshomaru's behavior had improved considerably. Shiroihana privately thought it was a miracle—though Kuenai would have dismissed that—and felt reassured in her belief that Sesshomaru did not need his father. Inutaisho did not usually ask about his son to Shiroihana directly, but she knew that Kuenai had received letters from Inutaisho's messengers that instructed the teacher to read them to Sesshomaru or pass them off to him. Kuenai, being loyal to his employer and his pupil, did not do this. He handed them to Shiroihana and let her decide what to do with them.

A few letters did reach Sesshomaru, however, through unannounced kitsune messengers and other secretive spies. Sesshomaru was barely able to read and the script that he found himself trying to puzzle out baffled him. He had rarely seen the characters for _father_ written out. He recognized the name _Inutaisho_ and his own name written out in bold, brave strokes. He envied the competence of the letter writer and asked Kuenai to read the rest of it to him, to decipher it. Kuenai took it from him, promising to read it to him and make a study of it just as soon as Sesshomaru's mother, the Great and Honorable Queen Mother, gave her permission.

Sesshomaru accepted the answer and unquestioningly passed every letter that Inutaisho managed to get into his small hands into his teacher's instead.

He never saw them again and though he did not know it, Shiroihana read them and stored them away, then wrote to Inutaisho, warning him to cease his attempt to sway Sesshomaru. Her letters with these warnings brought back some of the emotion between the couple, a reminder of the bitterness plaguing their estranged, strained marriage.

When the Yajin bear clan began causing trouble, Shiroihana approached them with emissaries. Negotiations took place. She was gone for close to a week and when she returned, peace was supposedly restored through her brilliant and tactful discussion and compromise. As it turned out the compromise mostly involved a reduction in taxes, subtle threats of extreme violence, and the demands of hostages. The Yajin clan, the bears, wanted Sesshomaru as a hostage. Naturally Shiroihana declined on the grounds that it was not fair. Sesshomaru was her only child, her sole heir while the Yajin had several cubs who could inherit the wealth of their family lands and riches.

The threat from the Yajin was substantial enough that Shiroihana made sure that Inutaisho accompanied her. They had seen each other off and on since the night of Sesshomaru's birth and often made a show of their union in front of clans and lands they were trying to conquer. But underlying their appearances together was the constant coldness, bitterness, and pain from the loss of Shiroihana's younger brother and the prophecy surrounding Inutaisho. For Inutaisho the frustration and pain built each year as he was excluded from his son's life.

But in that springtime, facing the Yajin in their small palace, a place called Jouka, Shiroihana needed Inutaisho for more than show. Inutaisho's presence and his backing prevented the Yajin from taking Sesshomaru and kept peace. For the first time Inutaisho had done something good for his son in Shiroihana's eyes. Her worry and concern for her son led into enormous gratitude for Inutaisho. It was only the combination of his bravado and her tact and insistence that saved the situation.

On the journey back they had one of the Yajin clan's sons, named Keikan, as a hostage to ensure that the Yajin did not cause further trouble. The prolonged time with husband and wife together kindled physical attraction. By the time they parted, with Inutaisho heading to the northeast to where he was building a new stronghold—which he would name Nejiro—and Shiroihana and her hostage Yajin Keikan the bear, Shiroihana knew she was about to enter a heat. It was the first one she had had since Sesshomaru's conception.

While Shiroihana endured her heat alone, locked away as far as she could physically be from Sesshomaru, Kuenai, and the hostage Keikan, daily life went on for Kagetsu palace.

Keikan was larger than Sesshomaru in body, bulkier and heavier. Like Sesshomaru he was very fair. There were two layers to his hair. The outer was creamy white-yellow, a rich blond. The inner was light brown. His true form would incorporate both colors. His eyes were orange-brown and fierce as a grizzly's. Shiroihana and Inutaisho had picked Keikan from his siblings because he was comparable to Sesshomaru in age. They were motivated by equality and hoped that the pup and the cub would bond as friends, further sealing an alliance and close relations between the two demon clans.

Kuenai taught the boys together in the same class but it was clear early on that Keikan lacked the same level of development and capability as Sesshomaru. It was not that Keikan was less intelligent. Bears and dogs were closely related and like dogs and wolves could even interbreed—though the results were infertile and often unstable. It was an easier cross to make, however, than one between a dog youkai and a cat youkai like one of the panthers. Instead Keikan lagged behind Sesshomaru because his family had not been as interested in education. They did not live as closely aligned with human practices and education as the inuyoukai did. Plus Keikan's hands were even more heavily clawed than Sesshomaru's. He broke brushes with the slightest pressure and tossed the splintered pieces across the room in rage.

Sesshomaru had never seen another child his age and naturally he despised Keikan, feeling threatened by him. They bickered, often nonverbally in growls and snarls. Kuenai scolded them and Sesshomaru usually obeyed, pretending to get along in the classroom. Keikan was not so easily controlled. He was upset and lonely as a hostage, surrounded by inuyoukai and a foreign place and lifestyle.

Keikan received letters from home which he read after Shiroihana had seen them, but the Yajin as bears had a special language of their own. Unlike the inuyoukai, who adopted human methods of communication, the bears had retained a nonverbal language of scratch markings. Keikan's letters were filled with scratches in the margins. Kuenai had some idea that communication was happening, but could not fathom it. He planned to research it and keep the letters from Keikan, but it was already too late.

Sesshomaru had not shared a bed with his mother since he had been abruptly weaned three years previously. Although he did not know it, Shiroihana had given him the room that her brother had inhabited while alive. Sesshomaru had at times smelled the old scent of a relative inside the carpets or the wood of the walls, but otherwise the room held no ghosts for him.

It was only two weeks since Keikan had been taken from his clan and forced to stay in the Kagetsu as a hostage for the Western Lands. Two weeks was more than long enough for him to have gained an understanding of where everyone slept at night. He was not an excellent student in the classroom, but more than the inuyoukai, the bear youkai were battle-ready, as tough as tanks and built heavy. Keikan could have killed a fully armored samurai at five years old, little more than a toddler by youkai standards. He was not five now, he was a very solid ten and his claws were twice as long as the inuyoukai.

It was as if Shiroihana had brought a fox into her henhouse and expected him to play nicely with the chickens. Partly this ignorance stemmed from youkai-species bigotry and ethnocentrism. Shiroihana knew nothing about bear youkai and their cubs, but she was also blinded by her own strength and power, as well as her son's. She did not—wouldn't, couldn't—see the threat that Keikan was.

The Yajin did not play by the same rules that these inuyoukai did. Like lions and leopards on a savannah, the bears considered the inuyoukai a threat. And amongst wild predators it was a common strategy to slaughter the offspring of one's competition.

Late that night Sesshomaru snapped awake when the scent of bear, thick, musty, and aggressive, swarmed over him. His eyes were more nocturnally attuned than a bear's and he saw immediately the shadow approaching his bed as well as the darkness of the open door and the corridor beyond.

Keikan sprang, roaring in a voice already deep and accustomed to war cries. Sesshomaru prepared for the blow, lifting his arms in self-defense. Unlike Keikan, Sesshomaru had received no physical conditioning yet, no practice in battle or bodily endurance and strength aside from what his own roughhousing required. He was at a disadvantage all around in a way he never would be again.

They rolled and the first of Keikan's blows drew Sesshomaru's blood. The pup smelled it, as did the bear cub. It increased the frenzy of both. Keikan slashed even more wildly and with more strength while Sesshomaru twisted and writhed, scrabbling not to fight, but to _run._

Keikan was not trying to wrestle playfully. His claws tore at Sesshomaru's arms, aimed for his face and neck and then, when that was blocked, his chest. More blood spurted and Sesshomaru howled, kicking and screaming. Keikan was too heavy, too experienced, and he had caught Sesshomaru almost with no warning, pinning the pup to the bed. Sesshomaru tried to roll and escape, understanding with wild terror that in his current position it would only be a matter of time before Keikan tore out his throat—and not even an inuyoukai could survive blood loss of that scale.

Sesshomaru was going to die.

"Stupid dog!" Keikan growled, barely coherent. His face was twisted in a snarl. He had gaps after his massive canines where he was missing teeth congenitally. (A/N: Bears have a natural gap between sharp teeth in front and molars in back.) The whiteness of teeth and blackness of gap stood out sharply in Sesshomaru's wide, gaping eyes.

Then Sesshomaru, in desperation, lashed out at Keikan. His claws, though smaller, still managed to tear the skin. It shouldn't have worked but after a moment Keikan cried out and hopped back, pawing at his arm where Sesshomaru had scratched him.

As it turned out the youkai interspecies ignorance worked both ways. Just as Shiroihana knew little about bear youkai, the bears knew nothing about the Kosetsu and their specific clan line.

Sesshomaru and his mother carried the crescent moon of the Kosetsu, a rare indicator of mammalian poison. (A/N: Mammals are almost never poisonous. So I don't know where Rumiko got the idea to make him poisonous, but seems like not all youkai on the show/manga were poisonous too. So Sess is fairly special. Just FYI. Most of the poisonous mammals are not _toxic_, just excruciating. Duckbill platypus males for example, only the males, are poisonous. If my memory serves, the poison interacts directly with nerves, causing them to spark with outrageous pain. I am modeling this inuyoukai poison on that and adding a toxic element.)

Breathing hard, bleeding, Sesshomaru stared at Keikan as the bear shook and cried, blubbering in pain, clawing at his arm. Sesshomaru clenched his fist, feeling the prick of his claws. Deep-buried instinct, as ancient as time and the sea, rose within him.

With his own little roar, Sesshomaru lurched forward, leaving a trail of splattered blood in his wake, spreading it all over his bed sheets. He collided with Keikan and dug his claws into the bear's neck. He slashed twice and then simply imbedded the claws into the flesh. Although no one had taught him that he was poisonous, Sesshomaru had sometimes observed—in moments of stress—that a green slime oozed from his claws. It was a nuisance, burning the skin of the geckos and monkeys, staining sheets. Sesshomaru had no way of knowing what it was or what its purpose was, but no one has to tell a rattlesnake or a cobra that it is poisonous either.

When Sesshomaru needed this knowledge, this instinct to survive, it sprang out of him as natural as a snake striking.

Keikan went into a seizure beneath the young pup, his body tensed and convulsed wildly. Foam and blood oozed and frothed out of his mouth. He choked and then went limp. Sesshomaru smelled shit and gagged, stumbling back from the cub's body. He stared at it in the dark for a time, smelling the mix of blood until he began to shake with the leftover surge of adrenaline. Pain hit him and he began whimpering.

He left the room, dribbling blood after him, looking for his mother.

* * *

When news of this attack reached Inutaisho—though exactly how he learned Shiroihana would never know—he would no longer take no for an answer. His messengers came announcing that he would arrive before midsummer to Kagetsu castle to see his son. The letter that came with the messengers told Shiroihana that he was disgusted by her inability to keep his son safe or to train him properly to defend himself. He also asked that Shiroihana reassure Sesshomaru regarding the attack, to praise him for his first kill.

Shiroihana was not happy with anything that had happened over the incident. She had not sent word to the Yajin that their son was dead, but knew that when she did it would mean battle. The Yajin had probably asked or planned to kill Sesshomaru all along, but the entire incident sickened Shiroihana and Inutaisho's upcoming, enforced visit insulted her and filled her with fear.

_I will lose him the moment he meets his father…_

But she couldn't think of any way to stop father and son from bonding.

* * *

Kuenai began to tell Sesshomaru stories he had never heard before. Stories about _Chichiue._ Honorable father. Sesshomaru heard about the panther war, the first invasion, then the subsequent larger war that involved both Shiroihana and Inutaisho. Kuenai instructed Sesshomaru in the particulars of addressing both of his parents, in the formal and proper etiquette. Sesshomaru had until that moment been living rather informally, pampered in the palace, hidden away. He used childish, informal language to address his mother and the servants. Only with Kuenai had he started using formal language to show respect to his teacher.

Sesshomaru learned the language well and easily, excited by the thought of the warrior who was coming to see him. The idea of _father_ was foreign to him, but after the harrowing experience of Keikan's assassination attempt, Sesshomaru thought this male stranger who was interested in his wellbeing was not such a bad thing. Since he had been weaned there had been a hole in his life, a widening gap between himself and his mother. She was affectionate, but the young Sesshomaru sensed something in her that was distant, reluctant. It didn't help too that she was often busy, dressing up, talking funny, playing _Queen._

When the day came Sesshomaru excitedly went through the bathing process with the geckos. There were minimal distractions, little playing and wrestling. Sesshomaru's arms and his chest were riddled in red and pink slashes from Keikan's claws. Sesshomaru traced over them curiously whenever they were exposed and wondered if they would ever go away.

His mother was ready before he was and he met her with her usual procession of nervous monkeys. She was dressed formally, playing Queen as Sesshomaru thought of it. Sesshomaru wanted to grab her ankles and the bottom hem of her kimono and hang on while she dragged him, step by step, but that would ruin his own silken clothes, the blue-gray haori and hakama.

As he joined her, Shiroihana knelt. Sesshomaru blinked up at her, his golden eyes glittering. He admired the silvered hair decorations as they tinkled musically like rain dripping from high eaves. He reached out and touched them and his mother smiled as she slowly pushed his hand away.

"Let's practice," she said. "Tell me your name."

"Momma," Sesshomaru said, making a face. He tugged on her sleeve impatiently. "I want to see _Chichiue…"_

Shiroihana's chin wrinkled briefly once and her breath hitched. "Tell me your name. Pretend I am Lord Inutaisho."

Sesshomaru gave in, accepting that he had to please her before things moved along. "I am Sesshomaru, son of Queen Shiroihana. Heir to the Kosetsu and the Western Lands."

His mother smiled, a hardened expression that didn't quite reach her golden eyes. "Very good, Sesshomaru."

They walked into the summer audience room, mounting the platform and sitting. Sesshomaru had done this only a few times before and never with formal company. They had practiced the day before but Sesshomaru was so busy staring at the strange warrior in the center of the room that he nearly tripped over the step up to the platform. Shiroihana was holding his shoulders, guiding him. She steadied him after the stumble and Sesshomaru blushed as he sat next to her, just offset slightly behind her.

The warrior was watching Sesshomaru and smiling with an odd expression. Sesshomaru was too young to interpret it as anything but friendly. He grinned back at the stranger.

"Bow," Shiroihana ordered.

Inutaisho's eyes moved slowly away from Sesshomaru. He nodded and ducked his head, dropping very low. Sesshomaru could not understand the scene and the emotions underneath it, but he felt his mother relax slightly next to him.

"Lord Inutaisho," she said, acknowledging him. "It is of course a pleasure to see you in Kagetsu again."

"I'm sure, _wife,"_ Inutaisho muttered.

The unpleasantness between them disturbed Sesshomaru. Alienated and uncomfortable, Sesshomaru looked to his mother and scooted closer to her, unable to control the desire to nestle into her, seeking protection. He thought she would ignore him or reject him, but instead she turned her body to welcome him and stroked his hair as he leaned into her side. Sesshomaru breathed in her scent and relaxed, safe.

"You have frightened him," Shiroihana said, scolding the warrior.

Inutaisho inhaled sharply and then said, "My son is not a coward. He killed a bear. I've come to see that he is raised properly, protected and cherished."

"He has no need of you," Shiroihana said, lifting her chin. "And he is most certainly protected and cherished."

"You have corrupted him. Even his name—" Inutaisho made a face. He had never accepted the name Shiroihana had picked out or its implications, all of which were unknown to little Sesshomaru. "He does not know me because you won't let him!"

"You forfeited your right the night he was born." Shiroihana shifted, encouraging Sesshomaru to lift his head to peer out at Inutaisho. "But I have brought him with me; I have even had his teacher tell him stories about you. The panther wars, the union of the Western Lands. He understands who you are and that you are most honorable."

"A son should know more than just stories of his father!" Inutaisho said in a low, dangerous tone. "He must know my strength and courage, my scent, the sound of my voice. He must know that I care for him."

"You have only just met him," Shiroihana reminded him, coldly. "And what would one such as you know about how sons should perceive their fathers?"

Inutaisho growled and his eyes flicked to Sesshomaru. "How dare you in front of—"

"He doesn't know," Shiroihana said. "Your secrets are safe. But it is a valid question."

"Let me speak with him," Inutaisho insisted. His shoulders drooped, his mood changed with defeat. "When I heard what had happened, Shiroihana—it made me heartsick. That he could have died here, supposedly protected by you and all of this castle, and I never would have known him. There is no one as cruel as you, Queen Shiroihana, to deny a father the chance to know his son."

The intense conversation was mostly lost on Sesshomaru. The concept of fatherhood was unfamiliar. He had no other family to explain it to him and had no exposure to the rest of the world to know that he was odd in any way for having just his mother around. He was not trying to smell Inutaisho, only the comforting scent of his mother, but the biological draw of his father's scent would be able to work magic on his understanding the moment he got a good solid whiff of it. Shiroihana and Inutaisho knew this. It was in one's best interest to keep Sessshomaru as far away as possible, and for the other to get as close as possible

There was no way to know how deeply Sesshomaru would try to bond with his father. If he was the reincarnation of Shiroihana's younger brother as Shiroihana had insisted then he should feel no pull toward Inutaisho at all. But if he was a new start, a child born of Shiroihana and Inutaisho and without the soul of the former Sesshomaru, he could cleave to his father with a frantic instinctual love.

"You have denied the Kosetsu its future," Shiroihana muttered, bitterly.

Inutaisho shook his head. "You are holding its future."

Shiroihana let out a long, angry exhalation. She pulled her arm from Sesshomaru's head and stared straight ahead, past Inutaisho with a glazed look. "Sesshomaru—introduce yourself to Lord Inutaisho."

Sesshomaru parroted the introduction on command. "I am Sesshomaru, son of Queen Shiroihana. Heir to the Kosetsu and the Western Lands." He did not understand why the warrior scowled unhappily.

"You are cruel," Inutaisho said, glaring at Sesshomaru's mother.

"As are you," Shiroihana returned. She gently nudged Sesshomaru's backsides. "Go and embrace _Chichiue."_

"Yes, Momma," Sesshomaru replied, forgetting to speak formally. He moved cautiously off the platform and toward Inutaisho who watched him hungrily and smiled with melancholy.

A few feet shy of Inutaisho, Sesshomaru stopped and crouched, frowning. He sniffed loudly and shook his head, as if dazed. It was the first time he had gotten a proper scent from the visiting warrior. _Father_ had been a meaningless word to Sesshomaru. He did not understand family relations, that to create him took the joining of two halves. He had not sprung from Shiroihana alone. Now he was sniffing out the other half and he stared, perplexed and astonished.

Inutaisho raised his arms and motioned to Sesshomaru. "Come." His face was hard, the brow heavy. It was clear to Shiroihana that he was upset, filled with emotion, trying not to cry. But to Sesshomaru it was a strange, unfriendly face. He hesitated.

"You have a funny smell," Sesshomaru said. "It's like me."

"Yes," Inutaisho said, nodding. "And you are like me."

Sesshomaru tilted his head, baffled and intrigued. "How?"

Inutaisho's hardened, tight expression vanished, evaporating. He reached out and motioned at Sesshomaru. "Come to me, Son."

Though he did not know why, Sesshomaru obeyed, crossing the last few feet and leaning against the roughened, powerful warrior. Inutaisho's thick arms wrapped snugly around him, squeezing him close. Just as Shiroihana had, Inutaisho stroked Sesshomaru's hair and inhaled deeply, relishing the scent of his living son.

On the platform, sitting alone, Shiroihana gnashed her teeth together and looked away.

* * *

Endnote: I have a real puppy, a little 12 week Chihuahua girl named Noel, to base Sesshomaru's puppy nature on. I think it was a great help to have that living example.

The next chapter is not completed, and it has been troubling me a little. I want it to be the final chapter about Shiroihana. A chapter that sets up her ongoing relationship with Inutaisho because it just seemed odd to me that there are no other bastard children (that we know of) and the scenario I am presenting leaves Inutaisho emotionally unfettered for like 200+ years. There's unfinished business between Shiroihana and Inutaisho. Sess is a continuous bond between them. He and Shiroihana are going to be brushing shoulders a lot. Unavoidably. Undeniably. So...what do YOU think would happen? I ran the equation and thought, man, it would never be the same, but adults have physical needs and desires.

I could simplify it and just leave this span of time blank, let you all fill it in for yourselves. But I am nothing if not thorough. So I wanted to at least summarize their relationship (what's left of it)...and let's be honest. I wanted to punish Inutaisho. So next chapter Shiroihana gets to punish Inutaisho. You get to learn one of her other BIG secrets. Well, maybe more than one, or two, or thee...

And of course there's Sess. How did Sess deal with these two role models and teachers for the next 200+ years, all the time between now and Izayoi? Too many unanswered questions to leave alone! Without further ado, preview of next chapter:

_"Please," Inutaisho muttered, his voice grating like metal on metal. "Please, enough of this. I refuse to live apart from you and our son. Shiroihana—what more do you want of me? Must I beg on my knees?"_

_Before she could stop herself, Shiroihana smirked._

_Seeing the fast expression, Inutaisho dropped down onto the floor and bowed. Shiroihana stepped backward, startled at the swiftness of the action. She wanted to scold him for humbling himself in such a way, but at the same time it empowered Shiroihana and filled her with a desire spawned by __power._


	11. A Destiny Given At Birth

A/N: I would randomly like to note on Sess's late weaning. Some ppl (I don't know who they are) take offense to breastfeeding. But seriously, that's why we're mammals. That name, "mammal" even comes from it: mammary glands produce the milk that our offspring must have to survive. It makes mammals unique. As for when human babies are weaned there is no set time when the mother's body has to stop making milk. Even men can produce milk under the right stimulation. So you could nurse a child until he was seven as a human, there's no limit on the mother's side. As far as nutrition goes there's nothing better than the real thing, breast milk. It's good for mom and baby all around (except maybe for ease because it's not publicly accepted and aesthetically for the look of the breast). I heard once that Neanderthals probably breastfed until five. FIVE. In many other "primitive" cultures breastfeeding probably continues into 2 years of age, maybe more. Some mothers breastfeed that long here. So it sounds weird to say he was seven, but I'm thinking like developmentally he ages a year for every two years that actually pass. So 7 should be divided by 2 to get his real age. Anyway that's my rant on breastfeeding in case anyone is listening…

(crickets chirping).

Anyway, and for this chapter I returned to Shiroihana's viewpoint. Notice in her blurb that she is _lying._

Disclaimer: I do not own them.

* * *

Last Chapter: Sesshomaru's earliest childhood. Began his education at seven, made his first kill at 10 when the bear cub Keikan of the Yajin clan attacked him in his sleep, a purposeful attempt to kill the heir of the Western Lands to offset Shiroihana and Inutaisho. Sess won by way of luck in that he had poison. When he heard of the attack, Inutaisho at last stepped forward and just forced his way into Kagetsu to see his son. Sessmom was not all that happy about that.

* * *

A Word to Husbands by Ogden Nash

To keep your marriage brimming  
With love in the loving cup,  
Whenever you're wrong, admit it;  
Whenever you're right, shut up.

* * *

Shiroihana

Sesshomaru was a beautiful child, perfect in every way. I loved him completely, with all of my being. The same cannot be said for my husband. While Sesshomaru was an infant, Inutaisho had no interest in him at all. He felt the daily inconveniences, the messiness of a tiny pup, were beneath him. He busied himself elsewhere and with other women, mongrels and human females and probably anything that was willing. Or that he could overpower and force himself on.

It was only later, when Sesshomaru was further developed and educated, that Inutaisho decided to visit. I never had any doubt of my son's worth, of his strength and prowess, but nothing was good enough for Inutaisho. For reasons I cannot understand, Sesshomaru longed for his father's approval and affection. I was heartbroken, for in spite of my hard work and devotion, my son did not view me with the same loyalty and love.

Sons are cruel to their mothers. By nature we love and adore our sons, and by nature our sons betray us and leave us for their fathers.

It must be clear to you now that I think very little of my former husband. What you may not understand clearly is why I chose to remain married to such a lowlife, pathetic excuse for a father and husband. The answer is very simple: Sesshomaru needed Inutaisho and I could not bring myself to do anything that would harm my precious son. So as the years passed I watched Inutaisho mistreat my fine son, underestimating him, disregarding him, ignoring him as inadequate. And throughout those years I felt my son withdraw from me, seeking his father over me, longing for the approval and affection that Inutaisho refused him.

I'm sure you have heard where Inutaisho chose to bestow this missing affection. On a human woman and a half-breed bastard son.

* * *

**A Destiny Given At Birth**

Shiroihana began drinking the herbal tea to stave off heats while Inutaisho stayed in Kagetsu. She lingered in hallways and empty rooms, disturbed and depressed by his presence, her fears and other complicated emotions, trying to think.

To her horror, Sesshomaru and Inutaisho were bonding. Inutaisho was surprisingly playful and tolerant of his young son's rambunctiousness. During the first week that her husband was in the palace, Shiroihana often had her afternoons interrupted as the palace trembled faintly with the clamor of feet pounding on the floor in a separate wing or on the terrace. And then the shouts, barking, yapping, and other noises would commence. Inutaisho yelled mock attacks at his son and taught Sesshomaru to imitate them, then they dodged each other's pretend blows.

Shiroihana spent her afternoons and early evenings writing and researching, or receiving visitors and messengers. Inutaisho had those same responsibilities, but they could be put off and funneled to Shiroihana instead. She began seeing exactly that as messengers who had been seeking Inutaisho were sent away from his castle Nejiro to find her instead. Husband and wife were supposed to be joint rulers of the Western Lands, so one ruler was as good as the other.

But Shiroihana despised Inutaisho for using her to attend to his work while he invested all of his time with Sesshomaru.

She began watching father and son as much as she could, conducting her business in the same wing of the castle as where they were playing. When she learned that Inutaisho was napping with Sesshomaru and even sharing his bed with the little pup, Shiroihana wanted to kill him.

The playing started out small and grew until Inutaisho was damaging the floors, scratching them up accidentally with his powerful claws. Shiroihana caught glimpses as he dashed about on all fours, growling and rolling with Sesshomaru like two dogs. Shiroihana did not usually engage in such highly physical play. It was not that she was unable, but that she refused to risk the flooring—and that her own mother and father had not played with her in such a way.

It was undignified, unworthy of a young lord. Yet Shiroihana did not want to stop them because it would cause a fight and because she sensed Sesshomaru would resent her for it. When she spotted the scratches on the floor, Shiroihana knew she had an excuse to approach Inutaisho about it.

"You're ruining the palace," she told him one night after she had purposefully separated father and son and made sure Sesshomaru went to bed in his own room, alone. "I will not tolerate it."

Inutaisho was unbothered by her complaint as he sat in his room, cleaning his armor and arranging his swords. "I will take him outside then."

"No," Shiroihana snapped. "I want you to leave."

Inutaisho paused, staring down at his armor and the swords. He tapped his claws on the metal once, a short, sharp sound of irritation. "I am not leaving my son here if I go."

Shiroihana's claws bit into the flesh of her palm. She hissed, "His name is Sesshomaru and he is _my_ son. Or have you forgotten that you killed him?"

Inutaisho looked up at her and sneered. "Ridiculous. Do you hear yourself?"

"If you try to take my son from this castle, from the Kosetsu, I will kill you."

"Must we live in the past?" Inutaisho asked, growling. "Shiroihana—it has been _ten years._ Have you no capacity to forgive?"

For a moment Shiroihana was distracted by the clearness of Inutaisho's words, of his obvious mastery of Japanese. It startled her because Inutaisho often wrote in Chinese script in his letters and Shiroihana answered him that way. But in person she realized that indeed, ten years had passed and during that elapsed time Inutaisho had reacclimatized to the language of the islands of his birth. The clumsiness of the earliest months of their marriage was gone permanently. Inutaisho no longer tried to hide his ability to speak intelligently, even movingly. She had once seen this male inuyoukai as a dumb brute, a stupid breeder. Now she could not fathom how she had been so deceived, duped. He was a conniving, scheming, hateful beast.

She almost missed the content of those pretty, perfect words and was silent for a time before answering. "My brother would not forgive you. My brother would not forget."

"By your own reasoning he already has," Inutaisho snarled.

"What are you talking about?" Shiroihana demanded, insulted.

Inutaisho motioned toward the door behind her, the hallway beyond that. "If our son is your brother's reincarnation as you have insisted over and over again," he sneered as he said it. "Then surely he has forgiven me. My son harbors no ill will toward me."

Shiroihana spluttered in outrage. "The reborn soul forgets its past life!"

"If he can forget—can't you?"

Shiroihana bared her teeth at him but closed her throat around the angry, vicious growl that tried to escape her lips. "Sesshomaru doesn't know any better!"

"Because he is my son, my boy," Inutaisho insisted. "Can't you see it, Shiroihana? His scent—I can smell the Okou in him, my own mother. He is the same as I was when I was a pup. He is _not_ your brother!"

"He is my heir!" Shiroihana shouted. She laid her hands over her abdomen, recalling vividly the months of expectation and the first watery movement of her son squirming inside her. "I gave him life! He is _my son_. Not yours. We agreed you would have nothing to do with him until he is mature and able to make decisions on his own."

The age of maturity for inuyoukai was around 100 years. Sesshomaru would be fully able to make decisions and comprehend the world around him much sooner than that, but at 100 years he could begin carrying a sword and begin to access deep youkai powers. He would be like a fledging bird at that point, stretching his wings, readying himself for flight.

For a father to miss so much of his son's early life was unthinkable to someone like Inutaisho who had come from a male-dominated, father-ruled clan. For Shiroihana, who was only dimly aware of her father through her childhood, it was easy to understand and accept.

Inutaisho put his armor down on the floor, off his lap. He stood and faced his wife, glowering at her in mounting rage. He started walking toward her, danger and threat emanating from him.

Shiroihana lifted her chin and stood her ground. "I am Queen of the Kosetsu. The likes of you—_filth—_do not frighten me."

"If you cannot forgive me, if you cannot see beyond the mistakes of the past—why do you keep me bound to you!"

"You are as free as the wind," Shiroihana said quiet and harsh. "And just as destructive."

"We are married," Inutaisho reminded her. "There are other reasons why I wanted to visit the Kosetsu."

"Swine," Shiroihana muttered. She took a step back, intimidated in spite of herself. She had lost much of her fear that he would physically harm her over the years, but she did not put it past him to kill her and take Sesshomaru by force. Yet she did not interpret his advance as entirely violent or threatening. There was an underlying sexual tension, a need in the set of his shoulders and jaw.

Inutaisho closed the distance between them and one hand wrapped around her neck and jaw. He tilted her face upward and stared into her eyes. Shiroihana did not resist him and did not return the touch in either welcome or attack. She glared into his golden eyes and seethed inwardly with hate and—ashamedly—her own strong sexual desire.

There was no denying that Inutaisho was attractive, but Shiroihana had no intention of reconciling their marriage. Even so, she did not break the physical touch.

She realized that this was the first time they had been together alone and privately since Sesshomaru's death and rebirth.

"If I wanted to leave I would have," Inutaisho said. "Instead I have let you mourn alone for ten years. I have let you keep my son from me. I have tolerated your coldness and cruelty for ten years. Now I have come to collect."

"Get away," Shiroihana snarled, slapping at his wrist. She did not bother controlling her claws and Inutaisho released her and stared down at his wrist where she had drawn a smidgen of blood.

With feral, glowing eyes, he slowly lifted the offended wrist to his mouth and licked the wound, recycling the lost blood.

The warmth that bloomed in Shiroihana's loins was undeniable and pleasant. Her mouth watered at the thought of tasting his blood.

"I grow tired of living alone, Shiroihana."

"I want you to leave," Shiroihana said, but the words were bland, meaningless. The passion had left her voice. Hate still colored her view of her husband, but Shiroihana was a practical woman and she too had missed sex. The major difference between herself and Inutaisho was that she had Sesshomaru to distract her from it. She had company, someone to love. She doubted Inutaisho had remained faithful to her in the fullness of ten years, but she knew without a doubt that none of the other sexual encounters he could have had were of equal standing. None of them could have been fulfilling. None of them could give him a powerful son. None of them could have been as delightfully matched to him in physical strength.

"If you want me to leave," Inutaisho said, growling. "You will annul our marriage and release me for good."

In spite of her desire, Shiroihana liked the idea—a little. Not because it would dissolve their marriage and the chance of future sex, but because she could make sure Inutaisho had no legal right to his son at all.

"I will annul our marriage."

Inutaisho bared his teeth at her and rumbled in warning. "I can see what you're thinking. Annulling the marriage would not take away my right to see my son."

Shiroihana scowled. "You've had a week with Sesshomaru. I think that's enough."

"Please," Inutaisho muttered, his voice grating like metal on metal. "Please, enough of this. I refuse to live apart from you and our son. Shiroihana—what more do you want of me? Must I beg on my knees?"

Before she could stop herself, Shiroihana smirked.

Seeing the fast expression, Inutaisho dropped down onto the floor and bowed. Shiroihana stepped backward, startled at the swiftness of the action. She wanted to scold him for humbling himself in such a way, but at the same time it empowered Shiroihana and filled her with a desire spawned by _power._

_What power I have,_ she thought, _to make war heroes bow at my feet. _She was almost giddy with it and her hands shook. Shiroihana hid them in her sleeves. She pressed her advantage, ordering her husband to humiliate himself further.

"Beg me for permission to stay."

Inutaisho muttered for a moment and then spoke to the floor, "Shiroihana—I beg your indulgence. I plead for your forgiveness. I have wronged you in the past. I have been faithful. I have known no other woman. My dreams are filled with you and our son. My life is empty without you both."

Shiroihana stared down at his full shoulders, his thick white hair. She knew she would give in eventually. She knew that Sesshomaru would benefit from having Inutaisho around. She knew that she could move on from her brother's death and accept Inutaisho into her bed. She knew their marriage could be one of fondness—perhaps not love, but affection, tolerance, and warmth. It would be the right environment to raise Sesshomaru in.

But a stubborn, stiff, cold part of her soul refused to forget. _ He must never be finished suffering. He must always beg. Sesshomaru must never love him. _

She was aroused enough to slake her lust with him that night, but Shiroihana ignored and dismissed that chance. Inutaisho must suffer. Nothing must be easy for him. She turned away from where he was still bowing on the floor and walked for the door.

"You may stay for an additional week. At the end of which I expect you to leave. Do you understand?"

Inutaisho sat up readily and glared at her. "Shiroihana," he called.

"What is it, swine?"

"If our marriage is to remain intact I expect to share your bed. I expect another pup."

Shiroihana made a face. Her mouth tasted suddenly bitter. "Another son for your prophecy, perhaps?"

Inutaisho growled but did not answer.

"We shall see, husband." But as Shiroihana walked out of the room and shut the door behind her, she was thinking of just how she could punish her husband for the next several hundred years. The possibilities were endless.

* * *

It was not long, only a few days later, that Shiroihana gave into her desire and invited Inutaisho into her bed. He was desperate, fast, and out of practice, but Shiroihana thoroughly enjoyed the carnal, physical intimacy. The burly, intimidating inuyoukai warrior—Shiroihana's husband—dozed in the bed beside her.

Shiroihana enjoyed the physical warmth, the presence of another being in the bed with her. In the previous years her companion had been Sesshomaru, but now her son was starting out on the road to independence. She had been lonely, though she refused to acknowledge it.

But when she opened her eyes and found herself staring into Inutaisho's face, Shiroihana felt hate roiling inside her, like water coming to a rolling boil over the cooking fires. The passage of ten years had not dulled her memories of her lost brother. She vowed to herself, and to her brother's spirit, that she would never let this creature sharing her bed, who happened to be her husband, weasel his way back into her heart or her soul.

And she would never allow Inutaisho to delude Sesshomaru into loving him or trusting him.

* * *

The years that followed were tenuous, fragile in their stability.

First Shiroihana and Inutaisho declared a personal war against the Yajin bear clan. Inutaisho unleashed hordes of loyal minions upon their lands to track them down and slaughter the lot of them, young, adult, and old alike. Male or female. Unlike Shiroihana, who knew so little about bear youkai, Inutaisho made a point of educating himself about the other species. He knew when they were most vulnerable—during the earliest spring, after hibernation. Inuyoukai were active regardless of the season, but bear youkai preferred to spend winters tucked together in tight, damp, smelly burrows, waiting for the snows to begin melting in spring.

Inutaisho led several attacks over three years, each spring, into the ancestral lands of the Yajin. He located their burrows, new and old, hidden or obvious, and sent in dozens of youkai to spread miasma and other toxins. The young and old succumbed to those tactics, but the healthiest adolescents and adults rushed out in a rage. If Inutaisho had attacked them in the fall or even in the dead of winter, they would be stronger, with more fat and muscle reserves. But in waiting until the earliest parts of spring, when the valleys and passes were still clogged with snow, Inutaisho assured his greatest success.

As enraged parents and adolescents rushed out of their burrows, choking on miasma and shuddering with poison, Inutaisho cut them down effortlessly. Only the strongest of the Yajin managed to give him any trouble, but they too fell.

Very few of the Yajin survived the onslaught, and those that did survive did so only because Inutaisho pitied them or felt they were not a threat. He let a young female escape when she crawled from the burrow and cried, pleading for mercy. In another instance a cub escaped and Inutaisho did not chase it down. He preferred to kill the young and weak with poison, not by his own blade.

Shiroihana despised him for these reports. Inutaisho had not hesitated to cut down her own unarmed brother on her very doorstep, to send him to the underworld with his mythical sword. Yet he would spare the lives of bear youkai cubs, he would show them mercy and share the tale with her solemnly. Shiroihana thought this was a calculated act to impress her with his respect for life.

It failed, but Inutaisho also tried to share these tales with Sesshomaru, to impress some sort of code on him. Shiroihana took action to counter her husband's defilement of their son.

She began to set up time in her day to teach Sesshomaru. Inutaisho was already instructing the young pup physically, teaching him to wield his claws and fists. Shiroihana stepped in and decided that she should also teach her son. He was younger than she had been when Samidare began teaching her about the genealogies and the ways of the Kosetsu, but Shiroihana was frantic to stop the damage that Inutaisho had started.

By this time Sesshomaru was in his teens and sharp, alert. His attention span was lengthening almost every day. His body was rapidly growing and he was constantly eating. He appeared no older than ten years, if he had been a human. Teenagers were still young children among inuyoukai. But though his body was far from mature, his mind was forming quickly and would outpace his body for many years. He was ripe for learning.

It began with the genealogies, as it had when Shiroihana learned of her homeland, her heritage. Sesshomaru had never seen genealogies for his own family before, only for distant heroes, legends of the mainland and the beginning of the world. Now he stared with open fascination that delighted Shiroihana, scanning the names. Before she had set the documents out for him, Shiroihana wondered whether to scratch out her brother's name or to leave it intact. She risked leaving it as it was and watched tensely as her son registered the same name.

Sesshomaru laid his small clawed hands over his mother's name and then traced the line toward the uncle who shared his name. Then, slowly, he tapped his own name. "Mother?" he asked.

"Yes?" Shiroihana feigned disinterest but smiled with encouragement. She did not want Sesshomaru to read any secrets from her demeanor. She wanted to know what he knew, what he felt. Had the sight of the repeated name jolted a memory in his soul? A memory of death?

"Who is this? He has my name." Sesshomaru's small brow creased with concentration. He delicately traced the characters of his name over the top of his uncle's, double checking.

"That is my younger brother," Shiroihana answered. "He would have been your uncle."

"The marks under his name mean he died?" Sesshomaru was still in the process of learning to read and write dates. Shiroihana hoped that he had not learned enough to realize that his uncle's date of death was the same as Sesshomaru's date of birth. She had wanted to scratch out the data, but found herself unwilling to lie, or to dismiss her brother's suffering.

"Yes," she replied. "I missed my brother so much that I named you after him."

Sesshomaru touched the dates of death under his uncle's name in the genealogy and then squinted at the mark that represented his own birth. "When did he die?"

Shiroihana cursed inwardly while simultaneously praising Sesshomaru for his great intelligence. He did not know how to read the dates exactly, or to write them, but he knew they were identical.

Shiroihana sighed, deciding to tell the truth. "He died on the same night that you were born." She hesitated, uncertain of whether or not she wanted to push further with the details of her brother's death.

Sesshomaru gazed up at his mother, his golden eyes narrowing. "What happened, Mother?"

The cold shell of bitterness on Shiroihana's heart extended its reach, overpowering the caution in her mind. She recalled her vow to keep Sesshomaru from loving his father and decided that, in spite of the selfless part of her, the mother within her that whispered how painful the truth would be for her young son, she would tell Sesshomaru at least part of the truth. She would tell him the most important part of how his uncle had died—who had killed him.

She met her son's curious, innocent eyes with a solemn frown, a look that reflected pain and bitterness, decades above what her son could understand. "Sesshomaru," she said and when she blinked Shiroihana saw for a moment her brother as a child instead of her son. "My younger brother, your uncle—he…"

She did not know how to convey her emotions to her son, how to tell the story so he would understand it as completely as she did. Her hands closed up into fists of frustration.

"Listen very carefully to me, Sesshomaru."

Sesshomaru leaned closer, his young gaze bright and intense. He sensed his mother's darkening mood and craved an answer.

"You know Lord Inutaisho, your father. _Chichiue."_

Sesshomaru nodded vigorously. His white hair, still short, bobbed about his shoulders. Shiroihana did not miss the affection that passed over her son's face. The observation made her plunge onward with vehemence.

"Your father killed my brother, killed your uncle. I loved your uncle very much, and your father was jealous of him. He took him from me and from you."

Sesshomaru blinked with shock. "Chichiue?"

"Yes, your _most_ honorable father. You must never forget this, Sesshomaru. On the night that Lord Inutaisho killed my brother it hurt me so much—" Shiroihana laid a palm over her chest, between the breasts, tapping where her heart beat, still clenched with the old pain of the loss. "It hurt so much that when you were born, I named you after my brother, your uncle. I gave you his name for a reason, Sesshomaru. When you are big and strong you must avenge your uncle's wrongful death."

Sesshomaru's mouth fell open in shock and fear. His eyes darkened, moistening with childish tears. "Momma!" he lapsed into a childish speech that he had begun to shed with Kuenai's lessons. "Momma! No! Chichiue would not do that!"

Shiroihana sighed with a mix of anger and grief. Slowly, cautiously, she reached out and touched Sesshomaru's cheek, cupping it gently. "I understand that you like your father. It is very natural, but you must understand that you cannot possibly trust him, Sesshomaru. He will hurt you. He will deceive you, just as he did with me."

"Chichiue told me stories," Sesshomaru cried, mumbling as his voice weakened with tears. "He said the bear, the awful bear that hurt me—he said he let some of them go free, babies and girls."

Shiroihana detected the confusion in her son and seized it. "You do not understand why he did that," she observed.

"No!" Sesshomaru sobbed. "Chichiue says that it was dishonorable to kill weaklings, but the bear—the bear—the cub, he tried to kill me! Momma! I was so scared! He was bigger than me, stronger!" Sesshomaru quivered, ashamed and terrified to admit his weakness.

Shiroihana's throat burned, aching. She scooped Sesshomaru up with both arms, though he was already getting too big to hold. Sesshomaru leaned into her and wrapped his arms around her as he sobbed. Shiroihana shushed him and stroked his hair, murmuring comfort.

"My son, my beautiful baby—you will one day be stronger than any that lives. You will crush any that stands in your way." When Sesshomaru had caught his breath and quieted, listening to her and enjoying her touch, her scent, her closeness, Shiroihana plunged onward with her message of hatred.

"I am sorry to hurt you with this hard truth, Sesshomaru, but I could not let your father lie to you. You must never trust him. You are _my_ son, and your uncle's _nephew._" She pronounced _nephew_ carefully, knowing it was a new word for Sesshomaru. "When you see your father again, ask him about your uncle. Ask him what happened on the night of your birth. We will see how honorable he truly is, if he will tell you the truth as I have."

"Why, Momma? Why would he kill your brother? Why would he let the bears go when they would only kill me?" Sesshomaru asked, pulling away and demanding the information. His golden eyes glowed, fiery and fierce.

Shiroiahana smiled sadly, bitterly. She touched Sesshomaru's cheek. "Your father wants to impress you with his mercy. He wants to influence you and your behavior. He wants you to doubt what I have to say, but I only want you to know the truth. I only want you to be safe, Sesshomaru. Lord Inutaisho wants you to believe I am the cruel one, because I will not love him, and I would not have let those bears escape. I would have torn them apart to make them pay for what they did to you."

It was the truth. Shiroihana did not care that the bears Inutaisho had spared had nothing to do with the attack by Keikan on Sesshomaru. She wanted every bear she saw dead for that night when Sesshomaru had come to her, shaking, covered in blood. The scent of it was as precious and intimate as her own blood on the night of Sesshomaru's birth, or of her brother's death.

Sesshomaru stared into her face gravely. "I would have killed the bears too, Momma. I do not think you are cruel—but I can't understand. Why would Chichiue kill your brother? Why do I have to avenge him?"

Shiroihana struggled, trying not to cry herself. She touched the crescent moon on her son's forehead tenderly. "Your father was jealous. So jealous. I know you don't understand, but I don't either, Sesshomaru. You cannot avenge your uncle now. You must promise me you will not say anything about vengeance to your father. He cannot know that I have said this—or he could kill _me._ Do you understand, Sesshomaru? You must not say anything to your father about avenging your uncle."

"I promise, Momma!" Sesshomaru said, squeaking. He blinked away the fresh tears that had come on when Shiroihana said that Inutaisho could kill her if Sesshomaru broke the promise. "But can I ask him why he did it?"

"Yes, but only that. Sesshomaru, he may lie to you. You must not listen. Do you understand?"

"I do," Sesshomaru said, nodding.

Shiroihana spent the next several days watching her son and her husband warily. Sesshomaru astounded her, playing almost as if nothing was wrong, but he watched for her constantly. Their gazes locked across long empty halls and meaning, tension, passed between mother and son. When Inutaisho playfully wrestled his son down and pinned him, Sesshomaru panicked, clawing and crying out in fear. Inutaisho always withdrew with a perplexed, almost wounded expression. The relationship between father and son cooled as Sesshomaru viewed his father with wary eyes, constantly recalling his mother's warning.

* * *

It was the very first step in Sesshomaru's education on controlling emotion, on cementing the impenetrable mask of cold, unreadable resolve. His mother was a rock in his life, but he had quickly grasped at Kuenai, Daken, and Inutaisho, trusting them with the natural innocent love of a young pup. Now that naivety was shattered, vanished for good. His mother's word had no equal.

He thought of asking Inutaisho about his uncle often but never did. He had his mother's permission, even her encouragement to ask Inutaisho for the truth, but he did not doubt his mother's words. Inutaisho's mercy stories made no sense to him, only irritated or hurt him. Not for the first time he realized that chichiue and his mother were peaceable with one another, but not _comfortable_. They did not play with him together, they did not often speak. They did not share meals.

With the socially-aware cleverness that should not have awakened inside of him for several more years, Sesshomaru began to see adult complexities. He doubted his father and feared for his mother. When he felt especially close to his father, during play, or with a lesson, or when Inutaisho smiled at him or told him stories, Sesshomaru rejoiced at the attention of this strong, powerful male—his father who shared his scent, his blood—and then felt guilty if he caught a glimpse of his mother in the hallway or thought of her in passing.

It was difficult, painful, to constantly pull back from his father, to reevaluate him, to wonder about him and how he could have let bear cubs escape him, but had killed Sesshomaru's uncle. Thought he did not have a brother and could not really understand Shiroihana's pain, Sesshomaru did not have to think hard about how deeply it would grieve him to lose his mother. When he imagined life without knowing she was there, Sesshomaru always felt the intrusion of unwelcome, childish tears and a pain in his chest, a heaviness, as if he were going to die from the inside out.

Over time, however, his mother's warning lessened in severity. It was like living with a poisonous snake or spider, handling it every day, learning its moods and habits. Years passed, decades passed and Inutaisho did not strike, did not bite. He yelled when Sesshomaru got out of control, he occasionally smacked, scratched, or thumped his son in practice sessions where the fighting could become sloppy and extreme, but never outright dangerous. Sesshomaru learned and grew, he ate heartily and slept, and he developed a wary trust of his father, regarding him as powerful and unpredictable, a force like fire.

The mood between his parents developed and changed over the years. By the time Sesshomaru reached his 50s they had mellowed, settling into a lukewarm partnership.

Sesshomaru was old enough to understand, by his twenties, that these two unlikely creatures had combined physically, through sex, to create him. He also realized that they _still_ engaged in such an activity. The thought both intrigued and disgusted him—more the latter than the former. He wondered at their capacity to behave so strangely. He had only a partial understanding of _why_ two people, male or female, would join together in such a brutish, bizarre act. Kuenai had given him a brief outline of it as a necessary process to create new and original life. It was almost universal, inescapable for the continuity of life.

"Then it is like eating," Sesshomaru said. It was not a question, he felt confident that that was the answer.

Kuenai sat across from Sesshomaru in the small enclosed space, the classroom where each morning for decades, Sesshomaru had endured a variety of lessons. From the art of war, to reading and writing, to literature, and to behavioral and cultural lessons. At 25, a traditional age among inuyoukai that corresponded to a human's 13 or 14th year of life, Kuenai first explained reproduction in a very dry, matter of fact way. Sesshomaru had not been allowed to learn more than the very basics then, there had been no questions either. But at 50, another traditional age, Sesshomaru was almost fully mature in height, though not in weight and was allowed to dig deeper into the subject.

It was not a hard subject between them. Kuenai took his role as educator very seriously. Sesshomaru, like all young inuyoukai males, needed to be prepared when the first sexual urges crept into his body and mind. Females were more docile and did not require the same level of instruction as early or as often. They reached sexual maturity faster than their male counterparts, but tended to find controlling themselves much easier.

"It is somewhat like hunger, yes." Kuenai nodded thoughtfully. It was hot in the room and he used a metallic fan, gold-pleated, to fan himself. "But you will not die if you do not engage in the act. Like eating it is often more satisfying with a partner—or two." Kuenai chuckled.

"Two?" Sesshomaru asked, confused. "It is a biologic imperative. I do not enjoy eating more or less with the presence of another." He was always very careful to speak carefully and intelligently with Kuenai. They were friends, having spent so long together, but even so, Sesshomaru saw enormous value in mastering communication. He would be eloquent, he would be succinct.

"You do not yet understand the desire," Kuenai told him. "You are yet too young. There is much to learn. Sexuality comes usually with the first emergence of your true form. Your inner power as a youkai has not ripened. You are only a bud on the plum tree."

"I am not eager to understand this subject," Sesshomaru admitted.

Kuenai let out a sharp laugh, a sort of bark. His face was bright with merriment.

Sesshomaru fought to hide his disgust at his teacher's reaction. "What is so amusing?"

"Oh Sesshomaru—you do not know what you are saying, but there is no point in wishing it away. It will come. You will learn to appreciate it at least. Dare I say—I think you will wonder how you ever existed without it. Besides, if you did not engage in this activity you would have no way of carrying on your bloodline. I know that would make both Lord Inutaisho and Queen Shiroihana most unhappy."

For a moment the childish desire sprang into Sesshomaru's mind to confide in his teacher, to ask about his parents and their strange relationship. He had no true knowledge of how sex really worked between adults but there were enough stories in literature that he'd read by 50 to guess that it was supposedly about "love." The only "love" that Sesshomaru felt was for his mother. If he was being honest with himself he would have to add Chichiue to that short list too. But although his parents would tolerate one another's presence, Sesshomaru knew that they did not feel comfortable, they did not _choose_ each other. And yet they engaged freely in the act. Kuenai had said it did not kill inuyoukai if they did not have sex. It was not like starvation.

It frustrated Sesshomaru not to understand "love" and "sexuality." Or to comprehend his parents. As a child it had perplexed and disturbed him, now it became a weight or a pressure like choke a collar at his neck. He could not talk or ask about it—he had been silent this long, why change now? He doubted that his father would kill his mother as Shiroihana had suggested so long ago—but he did not, and could not understand them.

They were part of him, but so _apart._ So _different._ It made him angry, ready to tear apart some small creature, anything that got in his way.

"Don't trouble yourself over this, young lord," Kuenai said, reaching out to tentatively touch his ward. "You will understand—in time."

Kuenai was wrong. He never really did understand his parents. Sexuality, however, was another matter entirely.

* * *

At around the same time as Sesshomaru's second lesson on sexuality from Kuenai, Shiroihana and Inutaisho reached a turning point in their own relationship. They had never reconnected emotionally with one another, though from time to time they did share each other's bed. Inutaisho often left for one reason or another, for various periods of time. Shiroihana always suspected and expected that he would be unfaithful, but she had ceased caring.

Their only shared emotion was on Sesshomaru. Both parents beamed over their son, proud beyond words as he grew into his fuller stature. By 50 an inuyoukai would appear mostly mature, as tall as most adult humans. Sesshomaru was no different. He was still shorter than Inutaisho, and lankier, lacking the musculature of an adult, but otherwise Sesshomaru could almost pass as mature. In scent, however, other inuyoukai knew he was physically still a boy.

For the first time Inutaisho began taking Sesshomaru with him on short excursions. He tentatively allowed Sesshomaru to wield two of his famous swords. Sounga and Tetsusaiga. Sesshomaru held the weapons and sensed the demonic power inside them, but he was immature, unable to use them at all. When they returned to Kagetsu palace Inutaisho left swiftly for the winter. Sesshomaru casually mentioned his first touch of both swords during a meal, unable to hide his pride that Inutaisho had allowed him to hold such powerful, magnificent weapons. Shiroihana was not excited to hear about it and showed little enthusiasm.

"You must have your own sword," she said. "Not one of his. You are worthy of more than an heirloom."

"Chichiue has three swords. I am sure one will become my own," Sesshomaru said, but the passion had left his voice. The dull mask of cordiality had replaced it. Shiroihana had successfully numbed his experience, his pride in the swords and his father's favor.

"Your father finds imaginary fault in you, Sesshomaru. He is unsatisfied. He demands another son from me." Shiroihana, being fully matured, was not hungry often and only drank some greenish-brown tea. She eyed her son next to her, the high set of his shoulders, the stiffness in his strong spine.

He was watching her critically. Shiroihana guessed that he was trying to fathom her words, unable to believe them.

Shiroihana was actually telling partial truth. Inutaisho _did_ have a problem with Sesshomaru. Inutaisho had never expressed it to Shiroihana, but he had spoken to Kuenai and Daken about it, foolishly believing them to be loyal as well as tight-lipped. But both the sensei and the messenger had come to Shiroihana to report Inutaisho's odd complaints. As for Inutaisho's desire for another son—he was _not_ afraid to ask Shiroihana for that. But Shiroihana enjoyed denying that request.

"Mother?" Sesshomaru asked. There was a small note of irritation and disbelief in his voice. He had never questioned her before and this reluctance disturbed Shiroihana. She had rarely mentioned Inutaisho's crime in recent decades, coming to trust Sesshomaru's cold mask and admire it. Now she saw that in spite of his outward control, Inutaisho had won over Sesshomaru, to some extent.

The thought horrified her.

"Lord Inutaisho believes you are stone. Immovable and cold. I believe it is only fitting for you because you were born in a bitter winter. Inutaisho holds some mysterious standard up against you and says that you have failed it. He sees fault in you only because you are closer to me in disposition than you are to him." That was Inutaisho's complaint to Kuenai and Daken, that Sesshomaru was cold, hard to read and connect with. He was respectful but constantly distant, much like Shiroihana.

"Ridiculous," Sesshomaru muttered, unable to hide his emotion.

Shiroihana reached over to her son's plate and speared some of the raw, bleeding meat from it with her claw. Red liquid oozed out underneath it. "Do not doubt me, Sesshomaru. You recall your uncle? Your namesake?"

"Yes," he murmured, watching the blood on the plate.

"Have you ever noticed that Lord Inutaisho does not often call you by name? He calls you _son_ or _heir._ Does this seem odd to you?" she asked. Her claw pulled back from the meat, tearing out a small, raw chunk.

Sesshomaru was silent, still watching the meat and the plate, his mother's claw.

"You also recall the sacred task I have charged you with?" Shiroihana demanded. She drew the bloodied claw to her lips and licked at it delicately.

"To avenge most honorable Mother's younger brother."

"Yes," Shiroihana hissed, leaning closer to her son, speaking into his ear. "And in doing so you will wipe his dishonor and crimes clean. You will surpass him. Your uncle's soul can rest—and mine too, when I pass on."

"Mother is in no danger of passing on," Sesshomaru muttered. He sighed and frowned very briefly. "I do not understand your desires, Mother. Where _exactly_ does Father find fault with me?"

"You do not believe what I've told you," Shiroihana said, withdrawing from him and feigning a sudden, intense sorrow.

Sesshomaru fell for it. "Mother—I am sorry…I did not mean…"

"If you have any doubts about me, Sesshomaru, I ask you to be open with them. I have learned that your father is displeased by way of both Kuenai and Daken. Speak with them. You will find I am nothing but truthful." She held her head high, thrust her chin out. "I am not like your father. I have nothing but admiration and love for you."

"Father is not the creature you think he is, Mother." He lowered his head, almost slouching. "I do not understand what lies between you, but I know you would do better to—"

"Sesshomaru!" Shiroihana interrupted, laying a hand over her chest. "What nonsense is this? _You_ are in no place to advise _me._ You are not only hundreds of years younger than I, you are also my underling. I am your Queen. Before you are the heir to the Western Lands, you are _my heir._ You must be obedient."

"Forgive me for questioning you," Sesshomaru said, but the words were hollow, dry, unfeeling, almost insincere. "But I cannot believe Father is so unhappy with me that he wants another son as a replacement."

Shiroihana let out a sharp, bitter laugh. Sesshomaru turned and glared unrestrainedly at her. "Mother?"

"You do not understand at all," Shiroihana said. "He is not looking to _replace_ you, only to prevent you from surpassing him. If there are two sons there will be nothing but competition and fighting between you both. Neither of you will ever surpass him then. Or perhaps he intends to turn his other son against you, to stop you." She paused, glowering. "I will never allow that. I have one child, one son, one bloodline. There must never be another."

This had the desired effect. Sesshomaru closed his eyes and bowed, his long white hair, a full nearly adult mane of it, fell to the floor in a silky mass. "Most honorable Mother, I am forever in your debt for such wisdom."

"Yes," Shiroihana said, smiling with triumph. "And don't you ever forget it." When he sat upright again she embraced him, relieved that once more she had set a wedge between father and son, chilled their relationship by controlling, manipulating Sesshomaru.

She had almost completely made up the plot involving a second son. She knew of no such plans by Inutaisho, only that he intended to have more than one son. It didn't matter whether she guessed with any accuracy or not—Sesshomaru had believed it.

All was well in Shiroihana's world. Sesshomaru was _hers._

_

* * *

_

Endnote: Woot! I have returned! Sorry for my absence. Still planning my wedding, writing on a whole lot of different projects. I have completely absolutely LOVED making this view into the creation of Sess. It may not be too far from the truth either. I keep forgetting but if you watch the 3rd movie with English subs (or whatever language) Sess is just preoccupied with "defeating" his own father! What? WTF? Why? Everyone says "Well they were close" but somehow I doubt it. Now it is a different culture, and in the "Tales of the Otori" series a son's duty often involved "releasing" his father into death. Maybe that is closer to the truth. Maybe when Sess says "defeat" Inutaisho, he only means like overcome in battle, not kill. But still, it seems counter-intuitive. Why would a loving father and son have this sort of understanding? I ran into a great youtube video that suggested (via song) that Sess was REALLY pissed with his dad for going off and dying before he could "defeat" him and in doing so surpass him. Instead he's left with Inuyasha, and he just does NOT compare, he's not a suitable enemy. So Sess remains untested and he especially hates Inuyasha for his weakness, for the fact that he will never measure up to their father, so Sess can't just "defeat" Inuyasha and "surpass" their father that way either. I suppose for one obsessed with power, that would be maddening.

But basically I feel bad for our Sess. I do. Maybe he does just want to defeat Inutaisho to surpass him, but he doesn't seem to want to do the same with his mother (who seemed very powerful. I would love to see her in action.) But yeah, so what's the deal here? That's why I'm writing, having fun, answering those questions.

Hope you are enjoying it too!

So **Questions** we answered this time! Sesshomaru's comment about "defeating" Inutaisho in the third Inuyasha movie, as well as the stance between father and son in the beginning there where they may be about to fight (ever notice how Sess backs off and looks upward as his dad transforms. He always seemed to me about ready to fight.) and Inutaisho's comment about "will you kill me, your own father?" So by way of the past and Sesshomaru's own name, I set up some reasoning behind that. But ultimately we know Sess fails. Ouch, what a thorn in his side.


	12. Sesshomaru In Doubt

A/N: I decided to move into part 2 and leave Shiroihana behind and adopt Izayoi and Sesshomaru for the next part. I wanted to just have Izayoi for part 2, but Sesshomaru is SUCH a player in this story too. Plus by my count Sess is somewhere around 350, maybe 400 by the time we meet him in the manga and anime. That's a LOT of time to cover and I didn't just want to say "...and 200 years passed." Also a lot happened in that time to set the stage for Izayoi (who appear by my reckoning at a little over 200 years of age for Sess). And Inutaisho and Shiroihana are constantly evolving too, as you will see in this chapter. Last but not least I enjoy writing him. Just in the last chapter I got to characterize him in a fast switch from being a pup, a child, a boy, into being a sexless teen, with an almost normal, recognizable Sess-personality.

I have really enjoyed getting to feel out how this poisonous environment spawned Sesshy. So this blurb and chapter are Izayoi-less, but Sess narrates. Plus I wanted to cover Sess's growth more. What is inuyoukai puberty _really_ like? Again, what he's writing is underneath. You will understand the context as you read the narrative. Also, Shiroihana goes a little nuts this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own them.

* * *

Last Chapter: Sesshomaru's later childhood and a half-assed reconciliation by Inutaisho and Shiroihana. Shiroihana turned Sess against his father by showing him the Kosetsu clan genealogy with his uncle on it, same name. Sess was horrified, but already he didn't understand Inutaisho. Inutaisho tried to impart mercy to Sess by telling him about the defenseless bears who he spared. Sess saw it only as a lack of caring by his father because the bear cub who tried to kill him when he was 10 was one of the Yajin. Shiroihana agreed that she would have been ruthless. She told Sess that he would kill Inutaisho someday and surpass him. She also told him that Inutaisho isn't pleased with him, finds imaginary faults. This is all only half true. Also, Inutaisho wants another son. Shiroihana implied that it was because he wants to use the son against Sess, or because he doesn't like Sess all that much. Again, only half true.

* * *

"This Be the Verse" by Philip Larkin

They fuck you up, your mom and dad  
they may not mean to, but they do.  
they fill you with the faults that they had  
and add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn  
by fools in old-style hats and coats,  
who half the time were soppy-stern  
and half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man  
it deepens like a coastal shelf.  
get out as early as you can  
and don't have any kids yourself.

* * *

Part 2: Sesshomaru

(Letter to Chichiue in Nejiro Castle from Kagetsu Palace)

Father,

In the interest of preserving the union of the Western Lands, I request leniency for Queen Shiroihana. There is no reason to despair with the recent loss. The Western Lands have a suitable heir already, embodied in myself. Queen Shiroihana is a valued negotiator and respected figurehead of the Western Lands. Mother and Father are the mind and the sword of the Western Lands. Without one there is little point or usefulness in the other.

If Father cannot accept entreaties from Queen Shiroihana, perhaps he will find one from myself more acceptable. This Sesshomaru asks that Lord Inutaisho overcome personal emotions in the interests firstly of the Western Lands, and secondly for the whimsy of his son and heir.

Sesshomaru

Son of Queen Shiroihana  
and Lord Inutaisho  
of the Western Lands

* * *

**Sesshomaru In Doubt**

The first stirrings of lust and youkai power were slow to appear in Sesshomaru. In some inuyoukai they first appeared as early as 80 or 90 years of age. Most often, however, the awakening happened later, between 97 and 105 years. It usually occurred ten years after an inuyoukai had reached a fuller, adult weight and musculature. For Sesshomaru there were gradual hints at the nearness of his physical onset.

As usual his mind showed the first sign. He began to notice scents and sights that had somehow eluded him for years. His own mother became a very new, changed creature. The earthy, warm scent that he associated with her became nuanced with depths he had not imagined and could not interpret. Her sweat was a comfort smell, sweet like milk for him from the years of nursing, but some element of it began to irritate him. It set his nose prickling, stinging on the inside. His father's scent seemed to transform too, becoming muskier, thicker, suffocating, strong. Sesshomaru coped, just barely managing to tolerate the offensive change.

By this time Sesshomaru was at the end of the maturation period at 103 years old. It was a slow onset and the process could take fifty years to complete. If Sesshomaru did not jumpstart his maturation soon he could be close to 175 before he could marry or even conduct a casual, sexual relationship.

But just as Sesshomaru could scent the hidden elements of his parents' scents now, they could pick out _his_ change in turn. Kuenai began questioning him, asking if he had experienced any changed thoughts, desires, moods. Sesshomaru was uncomfortable and avoided answering.

"Well," Kuenai said, sighing when Sesshomaru became unresponsive. "It will start with one and then the other. Queen Shiroihana has said that it always begins with the youkai energy in the Kosetsu clan, in her immediate family anyway. In Lord Inutaisho it is apparently the opposite!"

It was no surprise to Sesshomaru that he took after the Kosetsu clan, his mother's side. The youkai energy appeared first. Sesshomaru began sensing the demonic aura around his mother, father, Kuenai, and then on the monkeys and geckos. At first it was only youkai who were in the same room as he was, but as the weeks passed Sesshomaru started sensing ogres and wolves, anything that passed by within ten miles. He learned to phase it out as unimportant but it made him irritable, short-tempered while he adjusted.

Just as one ability had settled in, Sesshomaru found he had to deal with another. Spectral energy started to glow unbidden at his fingers and sudden motions sometimes sent a crackling energy spurting from his fingertips. Sesshomaru knew better than to keep this development to himself. He did not know where this ability came from, but because Inutaisho had been his tactical teacher, he approached his father during a lesson, clumsily demonstrating the green and blue energy that he could elicit from his fingertips.

The display shocked Inutaisho. He gawped at his son, dumbfounded, and then shook his head. "That is…unfamiliar to me."

The news depressed Sesshomaru, but he refused to let his shoulders slump. "I have seen it burn and crack objects before," he said, hoping that Inutaisho would see the value of the power.

Sesshomaru had accidentally flicked his fingers while eating and caught Shiroihana's teacup before breakfast. The tail of spectral energy had slashed the cup apart. The green-brown herbal tea spilled everywhere, filling the room with an acrid, bitter scent that almost gagged the young Sesshomaru. When Shiroihana found the cup cracked she had cursed but blamed a maid, not her son. Sesshomaru was embarrassed and did not dispute her hunch, even though it was wrong.

Inutaisho's brow furrowed, the blue streaks, jagged like shards of glass, rippled as his facial muscles moved. "I cannot be of any help to you with that—you will have to speak with your mother."

"Mother?" Sesshomaru asked, perplexed. He had not known that Shiroihana had any special fighting talents, though her aura was always leaden, heavy with power.

Inutaisho nodded. There was a sour, almost angry expression brewing on his face. "She has the ability to forge a whip out of it. I have seen it used to decapitate—" he stopped, swallowing, openly uncomfortable. "It is a very useful weapon."

"Mother has used it to decapitate other youkai?" Sesshomaru asked, intrigued. He rubbed his fingers together and felt bubbles of excitement tickling as they rose in his chest. He had not imagined that it could be _that_ effective against flesh.

Inutaisho laughed, a hard, bitter sound. "She has used it to rip off her own father's head."

_This_ drew Sesshomaru's attention. He stared at his father with alarm. Inutaisho was walking about the fighting hall, absently pressing on the matting with his feet and bare toes.

"Mother killed my grandfather with such a weapon?" Sesshomaru asked.

Inutaisho chuckled. His hands were on his hips, his head low. His white hair was pinned up high on his head but swinging freely as he moved. "Would you prefer to practice with the swords extensively from now on, Son? You will soon be able to wield one."

Sesshomaru was standing in the opposite corner of the matting, tense and alert. He was not yet as tall as Inutaisho, but already he was well-built, long and strong bodied. He had often practiced with his father and imagined the day when he would be stronger. It seemed fantasy to him, but at this moment, with the warmth of his own youkai energy glowing at his fingertips, Sesshomaru _knew_ he could be a significant threat to his own father—_and he had not even reached his full maturity yet._ Shiroihana had promised that he would surpass Inutaisho, replace him, end him.

Sesshomaru's young chest swelled with pride, but at the same time he could not stop himself from feeling a thrill of dread at Inutaisho's words. What else had happened in the past? Was it possible that Shiroihana had been lying to him about his uncle? Had _she_ been the one to kill her own family and then pin it on Inutaisho? He knew that the history of the Kosetsu clan supported such an interpretation. Queens usually killed their own brothers and sisters, as well as their fathers. Anyone who was a threat.

"Answer my question, Chichiue," Sesshomaru said, lowering his voice. "Did Mother kill her own father with this kind of weapon?"

Inutaisho sighed, growling. He did not look at his son. "It is in the past. There is no reason to share it with you. I should not have said anything about it." He walked off the matting to a small rack alongside the wall where several swords and bamboo poles were stored, waiting to be used. The swords had no youkai energy in them, they could only be used to stab or poke or hit with. Inutaisho picked out two of them and pivoted to toss one to Sesshomaru. "We've wasted enough time, Son."

Sesshomaru caught the flimsy blade easily and balanced it for a moment automatically, even as his brain was whirring, trying to comprehend what he had just heard. As Inutaisho took up a spot across from him, Sesshomaru could not put aside his concerns. He asked, "Father, why do you not call me by name?"

"What?" Inutaisho barked. "What is this nonsense?"

"You do not often use my name. Mother has told me that I am named for my uncle, her younger brother. She has also said that you killed him. Is this untrue?" Sesshomaru asked, stiffly. It was biting, painful to doubt Shiroihana after years of unwavering trust.

Inutaisho stared at Sesshomaru, silent and grave. Their gazes only broke when Inutaisho turned away and pinched his lips together. He bared his teeth in a sudden rage. "That meddling bitch!"

Sesshomaru could not stop himself from flinching at the unexpected outburst.

"How old were you when she told you that?" he demanded, striding toward his son with an aggressive, swaggering gait.

Sesshomaru took a step backward and raised the sword feebly. In the full face of his father, Sesshomaru realized he was _not_ a match for this inuyoukai. How foolish and naïve had he been to even think it? Inutaisho had experience over him, and boundless strength and passion. Sesshomaru was nothing but an adolescent, a child. Inutaisho's presence was daunting, terrifying.

It did not seem foolish, suddenly, that Shiroihana had thought Inutaisho could kill her if Sesshomaru broke his promise about the idea of vengeance.

"Answer me!" Inutaisho roared.

"I cannot remember," Sesshomaru answered, honestly. It was difficult to speak, his lips were thick. Sesshomaru's face burned with shame. _I am afraid. _

"Guess," Inutaisho snarled. He snatched the blade in Sesshomaru's hand and tore it effortlessly away.

To his disgrace, Sesshomaru let out a small whimper of bald fear and took another step back.

This caught Inutaisho's attention and he withdrew, diminishing, shrinking back into the gentle but solid, firm father that had instructed and played with Sesshomaru for a hundred years now. He sighed and tossed his own sword away. It flopped on the mat dully. "I apologize for frightening you."

"I was not frightened," Sesshomaru lied immediately. He was proud when his voice emerged steady and coherent.

Inutaisho grunted and smirked. "The hell you weren't, Boy."

"Please call me by name," Sesshomaru muttered, annoyed. _Boy_ was an insult to him now.

"What she said about me—about your stupid uncle—it's true. A lot of mistakes happened in the past, Son. I am not perfect, but I have always tried to do what was best for my family. Your uncle was after power, but your mother could not see it. He wanted your mother to kill you before you were born, while you were weak and defenseless. He loved her unnaturally. I killed him to keep you safe, as well as your mother." He paused, sighing heavily, and then said, "She told you this when you were very young, didn't she?"

After a pause, Sesshomaru nodded. "I saw my uncle's name in the Kosetsu genealogy."

"Keh," Inutaisho grunted. "I should have known. Did she tell you any other poisonous half-truths about me?"

"If Father killed my uncle it is not a half-truth that Mother told me," Sesshomaru pointed out.

"Keh," Inutaisho grunted again, unimpressed. "You realize she poisoned you against me, Son. She has set us up as enemies when nothing should be further from the truth. I understand now—the fear I have seen in your eyes for so long. She has tried to pry us apart with lies…"

"They are not lies to Mother and someone killed my uncle. Did you also kill my grandfather, Chichiue?" Sesshomaru asked dispassionately.

Inutaisho snorted inelegantly. "No! _She_ did that. I don't tell you things to poison you against her, Son. _She_ does. I didn't want to tell you about that, but you clearly have the same weapon that she does. She will have to instruct you in its use." He lowered his voice and growled. "It is an assassin's weapon, always available. A woman's weapon. She uses it as a coward, but you will use it as a tool, not as the assassin's knife or garrote. You will use it with honor that your mother cannot fathom."

After the training that followed, Sesshomaru sought out his mother and showed her the same ability. Unlike Inutaisho, Shiroihana exclaimed with joy and tried to embrace him.

"Sesshomaru! My son—my baby! You are truly my heir! You have been blessed with the weapon of the Queens!"

Sesshomaru was torn between excitement and disgust at this news. "It is a woman's weapon?" he asked, sneering.

Shiroihana recomposed herself immediately and frowned. "Sesshomaru—you are the descendant, the heir, of a long line of immeasurably powerful _women._ This is no _ordinary_ weapon. It is a gift. Your enemies will never see it coming and when they do see it they will underestimate it. It is very powerful, it can kill in one clean move…"

"A move like decapitation?" Sesshomaru asked coldly, eyeing his mother across her small scribe table where she usually spent hours composing letters to allies and various human and youkai minions in the Western Lands.

Shiroihana's excitement iced over at once. A muddled expression of confusion and worry filled her eyes. She shook her head. "Sesshomaru?"

"Father told me to seek you out regarding this weapon. He said you would train me and that you have used it to kill before. Specifically, you have killed inuyoukai—my grandfather, with it. He also claims that you have deliberately poisoned me against him. Is this true?" Sesshomaru asked. He tried to control the chill of his voice but failed. He could not hide his own feeling of betrayal.

Shiroihana frowned deeply. "I have only warned you about his true nature. I understand that it is difficult for you, Sesshomaru. But I have never done anything other than what I felt was best for you. Out of love."

"Chichiue said the same thing," Sesshomaru muttered.

"Your father is a liar! He fabricated excuses to kill your uncle while I was incapacitated, carrying you inside my belly. The shock of it sent me into labor, Sesshomaru. When you were born, I saw the mark on your forehead—" Shiroihana reached out and touched it reverently. Sesshomaru closed his eyes, accepting her show of favor and affection. "The mark of the Queens. I knew it was a sign. _You_ were appointed by Heaven to avenge my suffering—your uncle's suffering as well."

"And what of my grandfather's suffering?" Sesshomaru asked. "You have never spoken of him."

"Your grandfather betrayed me," Shiroihana snarled. "He helped kill your uncle when he was defenseless and refused to fight back. I killed him for his part in your uncle's murder."

"Just as the other Queens—my ancestors—killed their fathers and sisters and brothers to preserve their own power," Sesshomaru observed.

"No, I loved my brother," Shiroihana whispered. "I loved my father as well. It was not done in power, but in vengeance."

"You misunderstand, Mother," Sesshomaru said, smiling lightly. "I am not ashamed of what you did. I admire it. But I do not understand why you have tolerated Father's presence within my life and yours." He whispered, feeling his skin flush with a dark excitement. "Why did you not kill Father years ago?"

Shiroihana looked away, toward the small scribe table where a few pieces of paper and an inkwell and stone were waiting for her. She sighed. "Sesshomaru—I loved your father when you were conceived. I killed my father for his part in my brother's death because his purpose had ended, his time was complete. But Lord Inutaisho was making the Western Lands. I wanted greatness, glory for you. And I did not feel it was my place to kill the Great Dog General. That honor belongs to you. It is for you to survive him, to surpass him, not me."

"You have endured his presence for me," Sesshomaru said, blinking as he thought he grasped the magnitude of his mother's suffering.

"And he has been good for you," Shiroihana admitted, muttering. "You have learned much from him. You will be better prepared to kill him when the time comes."

Sesshomaru stared at his mother, filled with questions and confusion. Why had she stayed married to Inutaisho when it was clear they despised each other so much? Why did she share her bed with him from time to time? The thought made him shudder with revulsion. It seemed an insult, a defamation to his mother. He was infinitely grateful to her for her personal sacrifice, all for his benefit, but he could not understand it and suspected, in spite of how low that made him feel, that this was not the whole truth.

It was depressing and painful to realize that he could not and probably never would understand the two creatures that mattered most to him in the whole world.

* * *

The uneasy relationship between Sesshomaru's parents became venomous only a few years later. Sesshomaru had coexisted with them both peaceably, not worrying about the day when he might have to claim the destiny his mother planned for him by killing his father. He practiced and perfected the use of the spectral whip, slashing and tearing apart small animals that he came across on the mountainside outside the Kagetsu palace.

He had begun venturing through the Kosetsu and then through the more expansive Western Lands from about the age of 75 onward, always in the company of his father. He was not generally allowed to wander alone and had little interest in it. Inutaisho frequently found prey for his son during their journeys and Sesshomaru felt the thrill of tasting blood that was still warm, of feeling a heart that was still shuddering as he bit into it.

Life was good, enjoyable, filled with delights. The world outside the palace was joyous to Sesshomaru's nose and every other scent. Inutaisho skirted most serious danger while his son was less than 125 years old and eventually Sesshomaru became impatient, overeager to test his own abilities. Inutaisho was overprotective—Shiroihana made sure to tell her son that her brother fought powerful ogres and wolves at only 100 years old.

"Your father is afraid of you," she whispered to him.

Sesshomaru chose not to answer her, but her voice followed him down the long, lonely trails with his father.

He was still immature, unable to go without food or sleep on a regular basis. Each night on the trail Inutaisho chose a spot for them to bed down and then stood guard while Sesshomaru dozed, curled in soft summertime grasses or leaning against a tree, exhaling in little boyish puffs of air. When he woke with dawn light pouring into his face, Sesshomaru always found Inutaisho standing over him protectively, waiting. Sometimes he had food: a bird he had startled in a tree, mushrooms he had scented in the heady air of the night. Sesshomaru ate these morning gifts heartily and found them exquisite, better than anything he had ever had in the palace.

When Inutaisho relented at last, when Sesshomaru was 119 years of age, and decided to test Sesshomaru's talent and strength—both his power as a youkai and his physical stamina and raw muscle—Sesshomaru was thoroughly thrilled, though he revealed very little of his excitement outwardly.

His first kill as a proper adult was a river beast, a mindless snake that patrolled the shore and enjoyed gobbling up young human women who came to the water to wash their clothes. It was enormous, much bigger than the ogres or wolves that Shiroihana's brother would have killed for his rite of passage.

"You must take its life with only your claws," Inutaisho had instructed his son. "Taste its blood when it is dead and mark your forehead with it."

Shiroihana had given him differing instructions. _"Do not mark your forehead, Sesshomaru. You must not defile the crescent moon of the Queens."_

Sesshomaru approached the river snake without caution or hurry. He was tense, eager to kill the beast, to be blooded, but he was not foolhardy or in a hurry. The snake sensed him and lifted its enormous, triangular head high from the water. It flicked its black tongue at Sesshomaru. It spoke without opening its mouth.

_Who are you?_

There was no reason to introduce himself to the beast, but Sesshomaru decided there was no harm in it either. "Sesshomaru, son of Queen Shiroihana and Lord Inutaisho of the Western Lands." He did not care who the snake was, if it even had a name.

The snake opened its mouth, preparing to strike. It was venomous. _Do you challenge me, young one? Die!_

Sesshomaru sprang effortlessly before the snake could spring. He landed on its roiling back and slashed, severing it. The snake hissed and convulsed, shrinking with agony. Sesshomaru slashed and cut again and again. Though it went against his father's basic advice, Sesshomaru also made use of the whip. He had practiced the maneuver for decapitation many times, but after lashing the snake's scaly flesh, flaying it down to its ribs and spine, Sesshomaru decided to try and sever the snake's head from its body. He did it flawlessly; with a simple flick of the wrists and fingers that Shiroihana had shown him over and over again.

The spectral green energy coiled around the snake's neck and wrenched in tight. The hissing of the snake's mouth was silenced forever as his head popped off, like a dandelion flower from its stem. The only sound now was the gentle, welcome trickle and babble of the water and the soft spurting of moisture as the snake's blood rushed out of its body.

Without waiting for Inutaisho to appear and pronounce it a success, Sesshomaru moved to the severed head and laid his hand in the blood. It was warm, almost hot. He tasted each of his four fingers and then the thumb as well, then flicked his hand in disgust. The blood was not particularly tasty. Sesshomaru had never liked reptilian blood as much as mammalian or birds' blood.

Inutaisho reminded him only a few minutes later to mark his forehead, but Sesshomaru dismissed the suggestion.

"My forehead is already marked," he said. Inutaisho did not dispute it but Sesshomaru sensed his displeasure and wondered if the blooding was really _that_ important. What did it really mean? Or was it just that Inutaisho knew that Sesshomaru had spoken to and obeyed his mother over his father?

It was quickly after that event that the relationship between his parents soured dramatically. At first it seemed better because something happened that had never happened before—as far as Sesshomaru had been aware.

Shiroihana went into heat.

His mother's changed scent repulsed Sesshomaru. He left the castle while his parents were indisposed, ignoring Kuenai's complaining that there was much, much more to learn. He wandered alone on the mountainside for three entire days, enjoying solitude, quiet, and the joy of catching and eating his own prey. He missed his father's presence each morning when he woke alone and ravenous, but the mountainside was familiar, safe territory. Sesshomaru was in no danger.

He had never considered having a brother or a sister before. It had never entered his mind. He had never missed the experience either. Now the thought disquieted him. Shiroihana had promised _not_ to give Inutaisho another child—another _son._ Perhaps she was trying to have a daughter? But this too filled Sesshomaru with distrust. A sister would inherit the Kosetsu unquestionably, tearing at the unity of the Western Lands. For Sesshomaru there was no distinction between the two lands. One was managed more by his father, the other by his mother, but Sesshomaru thought of them as the same, except for their peculiar, cultural pasts.

Shiroihana had made him vow that any daughters he had in a future marriage would unquestionably rule the Kosetsu. His sons would be excluded. Sesshomaru had absolutely no interest in creating pups. In fact he barely even noticed the differences between male and female bodies yet. He dreaded the day when that mysterious, unwelcome world exposed itself to him.

When he returned home his parents were still indisposed but the scent had diminished, becoming tolerable. Sesshomaru reluctantly returned to his classes and lessons, putting thoughts of the future aside in favor of learning.

When his parents reemerged, Sesshomaru was stiff around them, awkward, but soon the event was forgotten, passing. A calmness descended over Kagetsu palace between Inutaisho and Shiroihana that did not go unnoticed by Sesshomaru. Inutaisho ate breakfast with his wife and his son for the first time that Sesshomaru could ever remember. He smiled at Shiroihana, glowing. He praised Sesshomaru, though he still failed to call his son by name. Shiroihana showed little change, she was cordial but distant. Sesshomaru wondered how long such strangeness would last.

Over the next few weeks Shiroihana's scent changed again. The new scent was not like the heat of before. It was fuller and welcoming. It drew Sesshomaru back into his earliest memories. It was the hormone change for pregnancy, nurturing, and milk production. Shiroihana was bright, pleasant, alive. For the first and only time in his life, Sesshomaru saw affection pass between Inutaisho and Shiroihana. Inutaisho followed her like a dog looking for food handouts. He smiled at her, he stared at her where before he had sought distance and avoided meeting her eye.

But Sesshomaru saw darkness hidden in his mother's golden eyes.

Nearly two months into the fiasco, Sesshomaru excused himself early from Kuenai's lessons and went to find his mother. She was in her bedroom, sitting at her desk, writing a long letter. When Sesshomaru burst into the room she looked up at his looming form with surprise.

"Sesshomaru! What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with Kuenai at this hour?" she demanded. She was flushed, breathing a little faster than she should have been. Sesshomaru had startled her. She must have been deeply engrossed while she was writing.

"I must speak with you," Sesshomaru said. He stepped into the room and dismissed a monkey maid that was falling asleep near Shiroihana's bed. After the maid left, closing the door behind her, Sesshomaru strode in and sat without waiting for Shiroihana to invite him. He was close enough to her desk that he could make out a few of the characters. He recognized the name at the top. _Koshoshiro._ It was one of her closest allies and friends.

"What is it you want?" Shiroihana asked, still mildly short of breath. She followed her son's gaze and motioned at the letter. "Lord Koshoshiro has told me he will be sending you a gift to honor your first blooding." She was wearing the thick white fur boa around her shoulders that Sesshomaru knew was a gift from the other lord. Sesshomaru himself did not have one while both of his parents proudly wore the warm, regal furs.

"Mother," Sesshomaru began uncertainly, "do you recall that you promised not to have another son?"

The darkness in her golden eyes clouded further. She nodded, serene and cold as a mountaintop wreathed in snow and glaciers.

"I am inexperienced, Mother, but your scent has become…"

"Yes, I am with child," Shiroihana said, muttering. "I thought you would have realized this months ago, Sesshomaru."

Sesshomaru looked away from her to hide his irritation. "I knew of Mother's condition the moment it began. It is a distinctive scent. Mother's scent now tells me she is going to break her promise to me."

"Sesshomaru," Shiroihana murmured quietly, smiling with a cruel gleam to her sharp teeth, her amber gaze. "Why do you doubt me so?"

Sesshomaru did not answer her. How could he _not_ doubt her? Did she think he was stupid? Dense?

Shiroihana leaned forward, whispering with a sick glee. "There will be no child. The humans refer think of my current condition as being _delicate._ It is not in me, of course, but this child will not live long enough to be born. I will never have another child with Lord Inutaisho, Sesshomaru. I would not risk your future."

This news was baffling, mildly disturbing. "I do not understand," he said.

"I am punishing your father for his crimes. It may not be my place to end his life—that duty and honor is all yours, Sesshomaru—but I have vowed to make him suffer a great deal." She sat back and sighed. Her hand, slender-fingered and long-clawed, laid over her flat abdomen where Sesshomaru's unborn full-blooded brother was sleeping, growing.

The stroking motion of her hand there set something inside Sesshomaru yearning, filled with warmth. It was a tender emotion and sensation that was almost completely foreign to him. In the moment of silence between mother and son Sesshomaru puzzled it out and determined that it was love, a longing for simplicity and comfort. He had not felt it since being so small that he could fit in her lap, since he had suckled at her breasts.

A small whine escaped his throat before Sesshomaru could stop it, before he had even realized he was making it. Shiroihana turned her attention to him, startled. "Sesshomaru?"

He shifted awkwardly and ducked his head, bowing to hide his discomfort. He pretended that nothing unusual had happened. "Mother?"

Shiroihana reached out and touched his long, silky white hair. "I am sorry, Sesshomaru. This is very confusing for you, isn't it? I did not know you were lonely."

"I am not lonely," Sesshomaru said.

"The sound you just made," Shiroihana said, murmuring. "I have not heard it since you were tiny. It is a baby sound. You used it to call me when you were hungry, cold, or lonely."

"Ridiculous," Sesshomaru told her, dismissively.

Shiroihana smirked and gave a small, sad laugh. "Of course, my son. Ridiculous." She thumped her fingers over her abdomen and gazed down at her own lap. Sesshomaru recognized longing in it and felt the same affection pass through him, childish, even babyish. He was far too old to feel such petty, weak, self-indulgent emotions. And why her pregnancy had stirred them within him was even more baffling.

He dismissed himself from her company and returned to Kuenai to complete reading _The Tale of Genji_, a stupid, foolish tale of humans in the court, falling in love and betraying each other.

* * *

The comparative peace of Kagetsu ended, crashing down on itself when Shiroihana induced a miscarriage. She had waited longer than she needed to, letting Inutaisho catch a strong scent of the unborn child—another son. Though Sesshomaru knew nothing about induced miscarriages or how a woman's body worked at all, he was astonished when _he_ felt the loss. Shiroihana's scent managed to permeate the palace and it gave him a stomachache. It was a blood smell, but it was not just Shiroihana's scent. It was the scent of an individual, another inuyoukai—Sesshomaru's brother.

Inutaisho raged at the loss. Sesshomaru would not have known—except that Shiroihana had told him—that the miscarriage was purposeful rather than an act of nature. Inutaisho apparently knew that already. He was not fit to conduct lessons with Sesshomaru for a full week. Inutaisho fled the palace, raging about the Kosetsu, tearing out holes, scars, and chunks from the ground with one of his three swords.

Sesshomaru stayed inside and continued enduring the scent as well as his classes. Kuenai seemed tired, a little subdued. The loss even seemed to affect the monkeys and geckos. They moved about much slower than usual and as quietly as possible. It was as if they sensed the inevitable danger of their situation. The inuyoukai they served were volatile in times like this and could kill one of them without warning or proper cause.

Though he had given no thought to a sibling before, Sesshomaru found the idea pleasant now. A brother or even a sister would be someone he knew he could trust amidst two treacherous, competitive parents. He pitied his father for having no warning of the plan, and thought that Shiroihana had played an unfair trick on Inutaisho, too painful, too personal.

When Inutaisho returned he was hollow-eyed, lackluster. He moved through the motions of fights and sparring sessions with his son, never praising him and not bothering to advance the training. Sesshomaru again pitied Inutaisho, but also felt disappointment, anger that Inutaisho could not appreciate what he already had. It was clear to him that Shiroihana had been right. Inutaisho wanted another son to compete with Sesshomaru, to replace him or outdo him or thwart him.

Both of his parents seemed despicable, annoying, petty.

* * *

Three years later it happened again. It was not as dramatic for Inutaisho this time around, even half-expected, but nonetheless he could not apparently resist Shiroihana's heat, though Sesshomaru only found it disgusting, revolting. He left the palace for two weeks this time, venturing alone on his own to escape the poisonous environment of the Kosetsu. He reflected on his parents in his first solitary journey, still trying to understand them.

It seemed more and more like a predatory game, a sparring match between the husband and wife, mother and father. One tried to create life and love, the other to tear it down and scatter it, bury it in the ground. Shiroihana wanted Sesshomaru to stay away from Inutaisho. Inutaisho wanted both of them to come together as one unit of family, a solid clan. Shiroihana wanted Inutaisho to be a positive teacher and role model for Sesshomaru. Inutaisho wanted Shiroihana to loosen her grip on Sesshomaru and give him another son, seemingly a replacement for Sesshomaru. Shiroihana had killed her own father. Inutaisho had killed Shiroihana's brother. Neither one of them could get over the past.

The repeated cycle of control and vengeance was maddening. Now an extra, sickening layer had been added to it. Shiroihana tempted, dared Inutaisho to expect a new son, a second child, a real reconciliation. Then she tore it from him, drowned it viciously in blood. Inutaisho meanwhile did not have the willpower or the desire to say no. He challenged Shiroihana, daring her to go through with the selected punishment.

Because the truth was that Sesshomaru knew the miscarriages, the losses, pained Shiroihana too. It was punishment for both of them, all of them. The miscarriages made her sick physically, weakened her, and Sesshomaru could not banish the image of her hand laid possessively, lovingly, over her abdomen. It seemed too great a curse, a burden for her to carry. If Sesshomaru released Shiroihana from her promise and encouraged her to have another child perhaps true healing could occur.

For the next few years Sesshomaru considered this option and when he was 127 years of age Shiroihana and Inutaisho again went through their destructive, bitter cycle of conception and deliberate loss. Shiroihana waited nearly four months this time before aborting the pregnancy. She had put enough time into this pregnancy—which was yet another unborn son, the third lost brother now for Sesshomaru—that Inutaisho had again begun to hope. When she began to bleed, a rank, damp smell that always made Sesshomaru queasy, Inutaisho attacked her while she was laid up in bed, shouting and screaming in rage.

With his keen, young ears, Sesshomaru listened to their hatred and the sickness burned within him, swelled. He was helpless, lost, coerced to endure the unending, selfish ranting as his parents fought over him. It was enough to almost make him wish that his mother had aborted the pregnancy that had brought him into the world. If Sesshomaru had not been born to force these two together they would have long ago killed each other and left the world in peace.

But Sesshomaru was not one to wallow in self-pity or misery. It did nothing. He squelched the strife inside himself and after Inutaisho had left, fleeing the palace for his own personal castle called Nejiro, Sesshomaru went to his mother's bed chambers.

Shiroihana was not sitting in bed; instead she was at the writing desk. Her robes were black and thin, nothing more than the sort of robe she would have worn to bed in the summer. It was fall now, bitter and cold. Her fingers were pale, the forearms mottled with splotches of purple and red. There was absorbent matting beneath her and the room stank of blood and the scent of another dead, unborn baby brother.

Sesshomaru lingered in the doorway, watching his mother. She did not look up at him but had tilted her head and stopped writing, indicating that she knew he was there. Her hair was messy, tousled and uncombed. The light in her room was very dim. The brazier's coals were going out but Sesshomaru could see and smell the sweat on her forehead and above her lips. Her face was creased with pain and effort.

"Mother," Sesshomaru said and felt the lump in his throat aching. The same whine wanted to escape his throat. His mother had called it a comfort whine, a baby's sound. Sesshomaru held his breath to keep it inside.

Shiroihana turned her head slightly. "My son," she breathed and closed her eyes, relaxing momentarily. "You should not be here at this time. This is a woman's place."

_I don't care_, he thought bitterly. _You are in pain; you are suffering for me needlessly._

"Please do not do this again for me, Mother," he told her quietly.

Shiroihana opened her eyes and blinked, frowning. "What do you mean?"

Sesshomaru stepped cautiously into the room though the scent of her blood and of his dead brother pushed him backward, sickening him. He knelt a short ways from her in the dark and whispered to her. "This Sesshomaru cannot bear to see honorable mother suffer. This Sesshomaru would tolerate a younger brother."

Shiroihana answered him in a breathy voice. "Nonsense. Don't be ridiculous, Sesshomaru."

"Mother, please. I will not condone more of this."

To his surprise Shiroihana reacted with anger. "You've taken _his_ side then," she hissed. "Fine then if he has you convinced—I don't care what either of you think about it." Shiroihana turned in her place slowly, awkwardly. She was hampered by pain and as she moved the blood smell, the scent of death and sickness, wafted up from under her, from the soiled matting she was sitting on.

Sesshomaru drew back, flinching in revulsion.

Shiroihana snatched his arm with her hand. It was moist, sticky. The color was black, like ink. But it was not ink. It was blood from the miscarriage. She held Sesshomaru still and glared at him, her eyes glinting, fierce and angry.

"I do this to hurt _him._ To inflict the same torture that he forced upon me when he killed you," she said, panting.

"Killed me?" Sesshomaru asked. His voice was quaking. _She has lost her mind._

Shiroihana seemed to recall herself. She looked at where she was gripping Sesshomaru's arm with horror. She released it and drew back from him. Her mouth fell open in shock and alarm. "I meant Otoutosan—my younger brother."

"Mother…" He held his breath again to keep the whine from entering his voice. He did not know what else to say to her and was afraid to say anything more. He wanted to flee like Inutaisho had but thought of that as cowardly and pointless, it would solve nothing.

Then a fresh epiphany smashed into him, as forceful as a blow from Inutaisho's bamboo pole in a sparring session.

_No,_ he thought. _It is me._ _I am the problem._ If he was gone Inutaisho and Shiroihana would live alone. They would give up on torturing each other. Sesshomaru wanted them reconciled and together for good or torn apart, never to lay eyes on each other again.

"Will you still avenge your uncle?" Shiroihana asked, panting. "Will you meet your destiny, Sesshomaru? You have not abandoned me, have you?"

Sesshomaru swallowed shakily and shook his head. "No, Mother. I am your son. But I am too young." It was the truth, but it was also evasive. Sesshomaru did not want to kill his father. He was bewildered, emotional; grieving though he did not understand why. He wanted to plead with her to move on, to let go of her brother, the mysterious uncle that Sesshomaru had never known.

"Mother," he started, quashing the shaking inside. "I am going away."

Shiroihana's hawkish golden eyes widened with alarm. "What do you mean?"

"It is difficult for me here, Mother. I must walk alone. I must see beyond the Western Lands."

Shiroihana shook her head. "No, you must stay here. You are my heir. You could be taken hostage elsewhere."

"No one will threaten me and survive," Sesshomaru murmured. After a pause he said, "I do not ask for permission, I am merely alerting you to my plans."

Shiroihana let out a small sound of genuine misery. She moved as if to cover her face with her hands but stopped partway, catching the sight of the blood on her hands and sneering with disgust. After a pause she said, "If you must go, Sesshomaru, go to the Middle Lands, the Nanka. Lord Koshoshiro will take you in and care for you as if you were his own. I trust him with my life."

"Then I will go to the Nanka," Sesshomaru assured her, smiling wanly.

He left without any further warning or goodbye to her, unsure of what to say and partly unwilling too. His family life was upside down, there was no reference point. Fleeing seemed shameful to Sesshomaru, but he wanted to see what other households were like, what other clans could offer him. He left with the messenger, Daken, and set out on the first prolonged journey of his life.

It would certainly not be his last.

* * *

Endnote: So we saw the great lengths Shiroihana will go to punish Inutaisho. Also Sess got to feel a little for his father. After Shiroihana set them so far apart from each other last chapter, a semblance of a connection was important. Sesshomaru is already uncertain of Shiroihana's intended destiny for him (i.e. to kill his father and surpass him, punish him). It was weird for me to stretch this young, but already mostly-matured Sess to his emotional limits. He's recognizable here but softer, younger, different. So things we got to see this chapter! **Sess discovered his whip thing! He also discovered some holes in Shiroihana's view of his father. **Also note Inutaisho's different attitude about talking smack about Shiroihana. He doesn't try to separate Mother and Son while Shiroihana constantly fights to separate Father and Son. But at the same time Inutaisho is unsatisfied with Sess in some way...

Next time:

Koshoshiro gets sentimental with the young Sesshomaru.

_"I understand you endured a difficult home life," Koshoshiro went on, either not noticing Sesshomaru's offense or ignoring it. "I will be honest—I wish you were **my son**. I pity Lady Shiroihana's situation."_

Sesshomaru fails his first run with Tetsusaiga.

_"Wind Scar!" Sesshomaru shouted and slashed with the blade. It crackled and there was a hiss of air. The sword sputtered with Sesshomaru's energy and eagerness—but the wind scar that resulted was pathetic. The ground was unscathed, only the dust had been disturbed._

And at long last Sesshomaru finds his sex drive and immediately hates it.

_Kuenai eyed Sesshomaru with growing amusement. "I think Lord Sesshomaru will find enormous pleasure from it in time. It is in the mastery of the sexual drive that a male inuyoukai derives the greatest enjoyment and delight. The ultimate test," Kuenai said, whispering, "is to seduce and perform the sexual act with a human woman. They are immensely fragile…"_

_"Disgusting," Sesshomaru growled. "Filth. This Sesshomaru would never degrade himself with such a despicable act."_

_"Lord Sesshomaru's own father devised this test and recommends it," Kuenai said._

And Inutaisho ends the chapter determined to get his son laid.

_"It's not about what you want anymore," Inutaisho announced, grunting. "It isn't right to be celibate. No son of mine is going to sit around here until his balls rot off from lack of use."_

_"Ridiculous," Sesshomaru blurted. He stared at Inutaisho, outraged and embarrassed at his father's crude, humiliating language._

Until next time! Izayoi is absent from next chapter, but she makes her first introduction in the following chapter..._  
_


	13. Sesshomaru's Journey to Adulthood

A/N: Sess gets his fluff here! And he gets...well...ah, something else for the first time here...enjoy! Next chapter** Izayoi appears for the first time! **Not as the narrator but she makes her entrance**. **

Sesshomaru will be difficult to read around the edges in his blurbs, but he asks for his teacher in this one so that he can learn Chinese. Maybe he does want that too, but he has other motives…Also notice Shiroihana's answer and her lack of formality. Even the way she signs it.

Disclaimer: I do not own them.

Last Chapter: Shiroihana decided to take revenge on IT in an unusual way, by appearing to happily conceive a new pup and then purposefully abort it. IT of course hated this, Sess didn't understand it, and not even Shiroihana liked it. When Sess suggested to his mother that a new sibling might be a good idea instead of a bad one--and he released her from her promise to him of only having one child--Shiroihana ignored him and basically said she does it to punish Chichiue. Sess finally realized his mother is a little less than perfect. Desperate to get away, Sess decided to go and visit Koshoshiro of the Middle Lands, Shiroihana's longtime ally and friend. Also, Sess has been gradually developing both in youkai energy and physically. He is slowly approaching sexual maturity.

* * *

Not quite dark yet  
and the stars shining  
above the withered fields.

Yosa Buson

* * *

Sesshomaru

(Letter to Queen Shiroihana from Lord Koshoshiro's castle in the Nanka, Middle Lands)

Mother,

Lord Koshoshiro is a most hospitable host. He has had a certain gift produced for me. Similar gifts were presented to you and Chichiue many years ago. It is a long white fur, very similar to the one I have seen you wear over your shoulders. Lord Koshoshiro plans to visit with you in the coming fall if such arrangements are acceptable to both parties.

I do not intend to come back to the Kosetsu or the Kagetsu for the remainder of this year. Nor do I plan on visiting Chichiue in Nejiro Castle.

In regard to my ongoing education I would like to ask that Kuenai-sensei journey at earliest convenience to the Nanka. My desire is to learn Chinese. See to it that he arrives swiftly.

Sesshomaru

Son of Queen Shiroihana  
and Lord Inutaisho  
of the Western Lands

(Shiroihana's reply)

(Letter to Sesshomaru in the Nanka)

Sesshomaru,

I will send sensei Kuenai as soon as possible. Your father has told me that you took on your true form for the first time. He is most upset with you for it. Apparently it disturbed him that you resembled your uncle a great deal. Your uncle and myself of course. Your uncle took on his true form on the night that he died.

Your father has also gleefully told me that you failed to use Tetsusaiga correctly. I am certain there is more to the sword than he has told you, or will ever tell you, because he wishes to humiliate you with it. He despises you, Sesshomaru. He is impossible to please, but he is wrong to doubt you. You are greater than he is. You will surpass him in every way. He would do better to accept you as the only child Heaven will give him, but he is such a fool he cannot accept you because of your resemblance to your uncle and to myself. You must never forget the Crescent Moon upon your forehead. You are of the Kosetsu, through and through.

I will look forward to Lord Koshoshiro's visit. He has been a wonderful ally and I am very pleased that he has welcomed you into his household. I have considered betrothal between our lands to ensure peace in future generations. What is your thought on this, Sesshomaru?

I await your return to Kagetsu with all of my heart,

Mother

* * *

**Sesshomaru's Journey to Adulthood**

Upon his arrival in the Nanka, Sesshomaru found almost immediate relief. Weight that he had not known he was carrying flew from his shoulders. The castle in the Nanka was small but new, well-fortified and simplistic, not the ornate, delicate decoration of the Kagetsu palace.

The Middle Lands were a strange conglomeration of distantly related inuyoukai ruling clans, each in four differing provinces. The Nanka reigned over the other provinces, housing its ultimate leader. That leader was Koshoshiro, a fair-haired inuyoukai with blue eyes like water reflecting a clear, cloudless sky and three—not one or two, but three—cheek markings. They were narrow, more filaments than actual streaks of broad color like Inutaisho's were or Sesshomaru's.

Koshoshiro's household greeted Sesshomaru like an ally and a prince. Full meals of rich whale meat and blubber were prepared, a large bedroom was readied for him to stay as long as he liked. Sesshomaru adopted a cool formality with everyone he met, refusing to break it even as his hosts did, speaking to each other casually and with warmth that made Sesshomaru uncomfortable.

Unlike the Kagetsu, the castle in the Nanka employed more human than youkai servants. Sesshomaru had seen humans used by Inutaisho in Nejiro castle in the Western Lands, but he never stayed in his father's stronghold longer than he had to because he knew it would upset his mother. He liked Nejiro and wanted to stay there longer, but the betrayal and guilt always prevented him.

There was no guilt here. For the first time Sesshomaru saw a household, a clan, a family beyond his own. It astounded him the way they were so peaceable, so casual. No one avoided glancing at another and they shared meals together. Curiously enough, Sesshomaru's hosts were just as fascinated by him as he was about them.

Daken stayed with him, becoming Sesshomaru's servant rather than Shiroihana or Inutaisho's now for the first time. Sesshomaru was grateful to the older, grizzled messenger when he answered more difficult questions for the young prince of the Western Lands. Daken was like a lubricant, easing the adjustment for Sesshomaru as he learned to cope and conduct himself in this new social environment.

Koshoshiro did most of the talking. He was friendly and had a softer, gentler demeanor than Inutaisho. Sesshomaru was disconcerted by the new faces around him. The vague similarity of the white hair topping everyone's head. He had seen so few inuyoukai in 127 years of life. He had no idea what to expect but Koshoshiro's family did not seem surprised at all. Gradually Sesshomaru realized that he had been sheltered, hidden away by both parents.

"I had not realized how much time had passed," Koshoshiro said, smiling warmly at Sesshomaru over the low, dark wooden surface of the table. It was littered with teacups and pots, trays of sliced meat and some whale blubber that had been made into a buttery soup.

"Time?" Sesshomaru asked. Daken was sitting next to him and spearing steamed vegetables with chopsticks clumsily. Adult inuyoukai who were well beyond sexual maturity sometimes enjoyed expanding their menu repertoire to include vegetables and fruits rather extensively. After all, the natural menu of a dog was broader than just meat. Dogs could eat grass all day like a horse if they had to.

"Yes," Koshoshiro said. "Time. It's been well over a century since I attended Queen Shiroihana's wedding. It has been an even longer period of time since I fought with the great Lord Inutaisho against the panthers in the War."

"Yes," Koshoshiro's wife murmured. She was soft and plump. Her aura was weak, her scent bland and uninteresting especially to the sexually unaware and socially sheltered Sesshomaru. Her name was Amairi, a name that seemed too pretty to suit her. She had hardly spoken all evening.

There were two offspring living in the castle under Koshoshiro's care. The eldest was a daughter, a little older than Sesshomaru. The other was younger than Sesshomaru, a son.

The daughter had a proud, strong bearing. Her name was Taikokajin, named for _pink_ because she was an albino. Her skin was as white as Sesshomaru's hair and her eyes were pink like jewels, beautiful but alarming. They lacked any color in the iris, meaning that she was light-sensitive and had no natural pigmentation. The pink color was the innards of her eye, the muscle of the iris and the blood-rich retina beyond.

The son was less impressive but already sexually mature. Sesshomaru could tell by the thickness of his scent, the testosterone musk. The male's name was Sasugainu, a name hinting or perhaps only hoping for cleverness. Brother and sister were peaceable with each other and with their parents—even though Taikokajin was only Sasugainu's half sister. Sesshomaru could tell by scent mostly, but their features also differed noticeably.

"Queen Shiroihana has been my ally for many long years," Koshoshiro went on. "It is amazing how much you resemble her, Lord Sesshomaru."

It was still odd to be addressed as _lord_ by another inuyoukai. Sesshomaru was fast starting to like it.

Sesshomaru was not certain what the proper response was. He glanced at Koshoshiro's offspring, both were adolescents nearing full maturity, like him. He considered saying that one of them resembled Koshoshiro too, but dismissed it. Instead he said, "Thank you."

"I have heard that Lord Koshoshiro has modeled his inheritance on Queen Shiroihana's influence!" Daken said, chortling.

Koshoshiro's daughter spoke up then, her voice confident and smooth. "You mean to say that I am Father's preferred heir?"

"Lady Taikokajin," Daken said, nodding and grinning stupidly with something like admiration. "Then the rumor is true?"

"She will inherit the Nanka after me," Koshoshiro said. He smiled at his daughter across the table and Sesshomaru stared blankly while inwardly he bristled with something like…envy? Koshoshiro offered smiles to both of his offspring. "And Sasugainu will take the Hokubo province whenever his betrothed is ready."

"He is betrothed to a distant cousin of mine," Amairi added. "Young Lady Hokinsha."

Sesshomaru ate until her was full, unwinding slowly. Relaxation was slow to come but his body had its priorities straight and called for sleep. The night passed uneventfully and when Sesshomaru woke with the dawn the following day his mind was clear, his heart unburdened. The feeling of freedom, of carelessness, of lassitude and peace, was so precious that he lingered in the bed as he had not since he had left his mother's bedroom after being weaned.

The only disquiet he felt was the realization that he did not want to return to the Kosetsu or Kagetsu palace. He did not even want to visit his father in Nejiro castle in the Western Lands.

He did not want to see either of his parents again. It was as if he were an insect, perhaps a cicada or a cricket, that had fallen into the sticky, silken threads of a spider's web and expected to die only to be cut free, to escape and live on…

Going back to the Western Lands or the Kosetsu would be like hopping back into the spider's web and asking it to eat him.

* * *

That afternoon Sesshomaru met with Koshoshiro in a small audience room. Sesshomaru bowed to the older inuyoukai and greeted him with graceful formality. Koshoshiro returned the favor, but with a more casual, friendly demeanor.

"I have a gift for you, Lord Sesshomaru," Koshoshiro said.

_A gift?_ Sesshomaru leaned forward alertly but otherwise said nothing and kept his eagerness to himself.

Koshoshiro called for his servants and several humans appeared wearing simple, gray kimono. Between them was a shiny, black box made of rich lacquered wood. The humans set the box down and left swiftly, but Sesshomaru watched their progress with fascination. He had seen very few humans in his journeys, though the paths he had traveled with his father often led them across human trails and roads. Most humans ran or took up arms when they came across Sesshomaru and Inutaisho unexpectedly. Inutaisho usually ignored them and changed direction to avoid open combat.

Sesshomaru had always wanted to tear them apart, to taste their rich, hot, mammalian blood. They had an intriguing scent that he wanted to investigate. Inutaisho, however, seemed to have no interest in them at all.

He wanted to ask Koshoshiro about the humans who worked for him as servants but controlled the curiosity. Certainly it would be rude of him to ask about the servants carrying the gifts, forgetting Koshoshiro's generosity completely.

"Open it," Koshoshiro said, motioning for Sesshomaru to move.

Sesshomaru moved forward and opened the lacquered wooden box. The inside was brilliant white. Sesshomaru paused for a moment to stare in at it. He recognized the gift—it was a luxurious, long white fur boa. Shiroihana and Inutaisho both had one of their own that they wore in different ways. Inutaisho had his over his back like twin tails. Shiroihana wore it on her shoulders, an elegant neckline that had tickled Sesshomaru's face, particularly his nose and eyes, as a pup. Until that moment Sesshomaru had never realized the origin and, upon receiving one himself, Sesshomaru was caught between honor that Koshoshiro would give him it and reluctance to follow in his parents' footsteps.

"Thank you, Lord Koshoshiro," Sesshomaru said, bowing. "Forgive me, I am uncertain how to wear it."

Koshoshiro smiled with amusement. "There are no rules. Both Lord Inutaisho and Lady Shiroihana have worn theirs however they wish. In time I trust you will adopt a favorite way to wear yours as well."

"Indeed."

The white fur boa was carried off and stored with Sesshomaru's other things in his guestroom in the castle. Sesshomaru brooded over it before retiring to bed, trying to imagine his unarmored shoulders wrapped with the boa, or trailing them behind him in a cape. He knew he would not wear the gift for some time, not until he had thought up a way to drape or wrap it about his body in a unique way that differed very clearly from both parents.

Thinking of them then, Sesshomaru went to bed before his inner thoughts could trouble him.

* * *

Winter came, marking another year passed in Sesshomaru's life. Both his parents wrote to him, disregarding the fact that the early and heavy snows of that year made traveling difficult even for kitsune messengers. Things were going well for both Inutaisho and Shiroihana. Without Sesshomaru present they lived separately. Everyone was taking a break.

Sesshomaru settled in with Koshoshiro's household. He was always apart from them, separate. Koshoshiro's wife, offspring, and servants all spoke to him with respect and they restrained emotions. They held their tongues around him. The only one who opened up more was Koshoshiro, and even then it was not done to benefit or comfort Sesshomaru—instead Koshoshiro was interested in Shiroihana and her marriage.

Sesshomaru could not fathom Koshoshiro's constant curiosity and concern—didn't he have his own affairs to attend to? But the longer that Sesshomaru stayed in the Nanka, the more he realized it was a quiet, gentle place. At least on the surface.

Springtime brought messengers from Lord Nishiyori, a leader who ruled a province in the Middle Lands called the Isei. Koshoshiro was frank when he spoke to his family and even to Sesshomaru.

"Lord Nishiyori is a constant threat to the peace of the Middle Lands. He will always be difficult. He is a warrior in his deepest soul," Koshoshiro said. He was speaking cordially, respectfully.

To Sesshomaru this was intolerably foolish on Koshoshiro's part. Why wouldn't he just kill the upstart?

The rest of Koshoshiro's family were all patient and liked to ruminate on how sad it was that Nishiyori was difficult. They always finished with hopeful expressions for the future. The marriage between Sasugainu would bring peace, surely. And Taikokajin would likely be betrothed to one of Nishiyori's nephews to further align the two families.

Sesshomaru watched Taikokajin during these discussions and saw a flicker of darkness pass over her. She was loyal to a fault to her father, but catty to her stepmother, condescending to her. She was on good terms with Sasugainu and ignored Sesshomaru.

In return Sesshomaru saw nothing in her though he could not stop himself from admiring the smoothness of her skin, the silkiness of her white hair as it flowed over her shoulders. And as the months passed, Sesshomaru found himself rising earlier in the morning and walking through the hallway where Taikokajin and the female human maids slept, just to catch glimpses of all of them in thinner robes. He made out the narrowness of waists, the slender curve of necks, the sleepy, swollen pout of lips. Occasionally one of the humans emerged with a poorly secured robe and Sesshomaru would see a bare leg, pale like snow or like milk.

It was little more than curiosity, but it did not go unnoticed. Koshoshiro must have written to Shiroihana, reporting on Sesshomaru's change in behavior. Shiroihana's next letter to Sesshomaru was an embarrassing set of questions. Had Sesshomaru felt desire? Had he wanted to touch Taikokajin or Amairi, Koshoshiro's wife? She assured him that such behavior would be inappropriate—even if one of the inuyoukai women _wanted_ to be touched. However, if he had uncontrollable desires, she encouraged him to use one of the humans. She did not bother to hide her opinion on that, however.

_It would be better for you to eat one than fornicate with her. The act would only shame you, Sesshomaru. But I understand this will be a difficult time for you. You must do what you need to do._

Sesshomaru did not write back to her, appalled and disgusted by the entire affair.

He had _not_ wanted to touch any of them. He was _not_ in danger of losing _any_ control.

The late spring and summertime visits from Nishiyori distracted Sesshomaru from that embarrassment. He requested the honor of sitting in on Koshoshiro's discussions and the wish was easily granted. Nishiyori was startled to have the young immature son of the war hero Inutaisho visiting with Kashoshiro. It changed his behavior, making him speak with more caution and respect. The talks ended well. Another betrothal was suggested between Taikokajin and one of Nishiyori's nephews. Koshoshiro was reluctant, however, to sign his daughter over to that future.

After Nishiyori's departure, Koshoshiro exposed his hidden plans with Sesshomaru. They were sitting together in the small audience room, atop the hosting platform as equals.

"I do not know if your mother told you this, Lord Sesshomaru," Koshoshiro began carefully, staring at the wall behind Sesshomaru. "But there was a time when Lady Shiroihana and I were suggested as husband and wife. The negotiations did not go as planned, however." He closed his eyes and sighed.

Sesshomaru hid his shock at the news. It was a piece in a strange puzzle that should have been obvious to him. Now Koshoshiro's inordinate interest in everything Shiroihana made sense. The sigh and the expression over the older lord's face told Sesshomaru very clearly that Koshoshiro _wanted_ Shiroihana. It was not a thing of the past.

He wore a bored expression and continued to stare into Koshoshiro's face, as if unimpressed with the tale. He did not even bother to reveal whether or not he had known this before.

Koshoshiro opened his eyes and plunged onward in a sterner, more businesslike way. "With that in mind, and our ongoing connection as allies, I had always hoped that my daughter and Lady Shiroihana's son would be betrothed. I have thought this from the moment that I heard of Lord Sesshomaru's birth."

Sesshomaru covered his mounting disgust and surprise with a bland answer and a small sniff, as if he needed to clear his nose of snot. "It is a natural plan to consider between allies."

Koshoshiro shook his head, scowling. "You are a strange youth, Lord Sesshomaru. Already you act older than you should."

This was unacceptable in Sesshomaru's mind, even insulting. He did not want his youngness, his inexperience, called to attention. He stiffened and lifted his chin into the air but said nothing.

"I understand you endured a difficult home life," Koshoshiro went on, either not noticing Sesshomaru's offense or ignoring it. "I will be honest—I wish you were _my_ son. I pity Lady Shiroihana's situation."

Sesshomaru lost his temper and curled his lips in outrage, showing his teerh. "Silence."

Koshoshiro stared at him, caught between indignant irritation that this _pup_ would order him in such a way, and embarrassment that his message was not accepted.

The proper response was to apologize for his outburst, but Sesshomaru squared his jaw and narrowed his eyes, unwilling to humble himself. Instead he said, "My honorable mother and father are not creatures to be pitied. They are to be envied. This Sesshomaru is _no one's son_ except Lord Inutaisho. Lord Koshoshiro would do well to remember it."

Koshoshiro sneered but his face had flushed. To be reprimanded by a youngster was highly insulting, but Koshoshiro was a fair man and he could not escape the fact that he had crossed the line. "I apologize," he muttered stiffly. "But my desire remains the same. I intend to formalize the betrothal this fall when I visit Queen Shiroihana."

"I will not participate in such an arrangement," Sesshomaru said, bluntly.

Koshoshiro's face flushed and his eyes narrowed in irritation. "What I am offering you is a great gift! My daughter will become the ruler of not just the Nanka, but of the entire Middle Lands! You are a fool to reject it!"

"I have no desire for marriage," Sesshomaru said. It was the truth. He had seen nothing to sway him otherwise. Marriages were merely arrangements for misery and reproduction. Sesshomaru did not see any value in marrying for alliance while he was still so young. Shiroihana and Koshoshiro were allies without marriage. Sesshomaru didn't need to ally himself with the Middle Lands over again using marriage.

The anger left Koshoshiro's face. He sighed as he regarded Sesshomaru. A sort of spell had left his eyes, a wistful and willful enchantment. Perhaps for the first time since Sesshomaru had come to stay in the Nanka, Koshoshiro saw the young inuyoukai for what he was, not with idealistic whimsy.

"You are right," Koshoshiro admitted. "At your age you wouldn't. You are not yet mature." He sighed again and looked down into his lap resignedly. "And neither is my daughter for that matter. She may be physically mature—while you are not even that yet—but she is not ready to become a mother or a wife." He closed his eyes. "I cannot imagine her as anything but my beloved, my darling."

Sesshomaru pretended to watch and listen to Koshoshiro but he was bored, even mildly disgusted with the lord's open show of emotion. The situation seemed simple to Sesshomaru. If Nishiyori caused a problem and a marriage alliance would cure it and Koshoshiro preferred alliance to violence—where was the problem? Nishiyori _wanted_ alliance too. He had suggested the nephew—some youth named Haiseishoku. It struck Sesshomaru as a fine solution—though not the one Sesshomaru would have favored.

Sesshomaru would have gone to war and annihilated Nishiyori for causing even a small amount of trouble. Koshoshiro's patience and aversion to war quietly disgusted and confused Sesshomaru.

* * *

Only a few weeks later Sesshomaru left the Nanka to visit his father in Nejiro castle, in the Western Lands. The visit was planned between father and son, an outing to sharpen their claws together, to flex their muscles. For an entire month in the fullness of summer, Sesshomaru ate prey that he or his father had killed together and slept with the powerful inuyoukai lord watching over him.

They did not discuss Shiroihana. It was almost a taboo topic.

Sesshomaru felt close to his father throughout their journey. They circled the Western Lands and crossed through different provinces, stopping occasionally to check in on more significant human and youkai.

In a particularly vicious battle with some free-range, lawless wolf demons, Sesshomaru took on his true form for the first time. Inutaisho did not follow suit, instead he let his son end the battle with ease. When Sesshomaru had reclaimed his bipedal form, Inutaisho said nothing but his lips were tightly pinched and upturned as if in a smile. It was a bizarre expression, a mix between several powerful emotions. Sesshomaru was unable to read them all but he guessed that although Inutaisho was pleased—proud beyond words even—something marred the experience.

Whatever was on Inutaisho's mind, it didn't stop him from untying Tetusaiga from his belt and passing it reverently to his son. As Sesshomaru unsheathed it cautiously, Inutaisho said, "You feel its power?"

Sesshomaru gave a small nod. "It is enormous."

"It is bonded to me," Inutaisho said. "It will be bonded to everyone who wields it. I will destroy it rather than let it fall into the wrong being's hands."

Sesshomaru was distracted by the weight and power of the sword, pulsing under his fingers, in his palm, but he didn't miss Inutaisho's cryptic words. Shiroihana had often claimed that Inutaisho did not like Sesshomaru, that he would not honor his only son appropriately. Sesshomaru had doubted her and still did. Inutaisho was not unnecessarily cruel, he did not engage in psychological and emotional warfare the way that Shiroihana did.

But there was something inside Inutaisho's voice that alarmed Sesshomaru.

"Chichiue has a brilliant sword," Sesshomaru said, speaking formally. He offered the handle back to Inutaisho.

Inutaisho shook his head. "I want you to tear up the ground here, Son. Use the wind scar."

Sesshomaru had seen Inutaisho use the attack, shouting it in his deep, cavernous voice, but he had never actually made one himself. His body was tense, his face warm. He wanted to impress Inutaisho and was naturally afraid of failure.

He lifted it and narrowed his eyes, gripping the blade and feeling the small tuft of silken white fur at the edge of the hilt. Tetsusaiga stirred, rippling, vibrating. It recognized him, connected with him—but it was hesitant, reluctant. It was waiting. Sesshomaru did not satisfy it.

Sensing this frustrated Sesshomaru and he ignored it, determined to impress his father and sure that the sword only needed to feel _more_ of him. He channeled his soul into it, his power, with one massive burst of effort.

"Wind Scar!" Sesshomaru shouted and slashed with the blade. It crackled and there was a hiss of air. The sword sputtered with Sesshomaru's energy and eagerness—but the wind scar that resulted was pathetic. The ground was unscathed, only the dust had been disturbed.

Sesshomaru grit his teeth together. "Wind—"

Inutaisho grabbed Sesshomaru's shoulder and forearm with an iron grip, stopping the wind scar before either of them could see the result, failure or success. "You aren't ready," Inutaisho said.

Sesshomaru blinked, stunned. He watched dumbly as Inutaisho reached for his wrist, prying his fingers gently from Tetsusaiga's hilt.

"No," Sesshomaru grunted, pulling free of his father's grip and snapping back into reality. His face burned, his heart pounded palpably in his chest. "Let me try again. I am ready."

Inutaisho's jaw squared, his golden eyes were dark. "You aren't ready, Son."

Frowning bitterly, Sesshomaru allowed his father to extract Tetsusaiga from his grip. He watched with hungry eyes as Inutaisho secured it back onto his belt with a small sash.

"I do not understand," Sesshomaru admitted. "My youkai energy is nearly mature. I am 128. How much longer must I wait?"

Inutaisho chuckled. "You're right, you don't understand. You've had enough youkai energy for years. That isn't the problem. The problem is Tetsusaiga. It's picky. It will only serve the right kind of master."

Sesshomaru considered this for a moment and started to feel mildly better about his failure. "Chichiue is the only one who may wield Tetsusaiga."

"No," Inutaisho said, shaking his head. "It isn't even as easy as that. Tetsusaiga could know many masters at one time, but it will only work when the master's heart is right."

Sesshomaru said nothing but he wished that Inutaisho hadn't told him that. It seemed weak, like nonsense, like a lie. He decided he would ask his mother about it and what Inutaisho really meant.

But Tetsusaiga proved to be the least of his worries by the time he returned to the Nanka. The narrow confines of the castle seemed to constrict Sesshomaru. He was restless, impatient, and short tempered. He roamed the castle tirelessly, agitated by the scent of the humans and other inuyoukai. During a meal he admired Amairi and Taikokajin, and then, disturbed at his own thoughts, watched the human servant girls and women instead.

After enduring the meal, Sesshomaru had a bath. Luckily—or unfortunately for Sesshomaru—the attendants were male, all human. They drew the water and prepared the robes and bath soaps and oils for his use if he chose, then left him alone.

In the relative privacy of the bath Sesshomaru's mind wandered and his body reacted. He found himself staring downward at his erect member with fascination and disgust. It was the first time since he had been a very young pup, a child discovering his body, that Sesshomaru had taken any special interest his sexual anatomy. It was not a shock to see it, but Sesshomaru was surprised. He knew what it was for, that it was normal and natural, even essential to continuing life on earth, but the sensation and the pleasurable drive to satisfy this new aspect of life were irresistible and repulsive all at once.

He did not want to relieve the condition, did not want to face this stage of his maturation, but it refused to go away. Sesshomaru sat stewing in the water of his own bath, acutely aware of the passage of time and of his condition, and increasingly irritated and disgusted by all of it.

After an hour and a half in the water—more than long enough for it to get chilly, which was what finally destroyed his embarrassing condition—Sesshomaru left. But his body and his mind were disjointed, disconnected. The condition followed him around and happened more and more often and with increasing insistence. It wasn't long before Sesshomaru gave in and relieved the condition with his own hand, but the act brought him no emotional satisfaction or pleasure. It was repulsive, vile.

He wrote to his mother, requesting Kuenai's presence. For a long time he agonized over the letter, wondering if Shiroihana would know why he wanted his old teacher. To cover the truth up he lied, claiming that he wanted to learn Chinese as she had.

Kuenai arrived before the first frost of autumn. Sesshomaru met with him as soon as the teacher was settled in the Nanka castle. Even as Sesshomaru tried to explain his difficulty Kuenai had already guessed it.

"You are afraid of losing control," Kuenai said somberly. The room was dark, the coals in the brazier had died.

"No," Sesshomaru muttered, unable to voice that concern aloud. "I want it to stop. It is a burden, a humiliation."

Kuenai smirked, both amused and concerned for his longtime student. "I must counsel young Lord Sesshomaru that some males experience a harsh oncoming and are at great risk of losing control of themselves and their higher thoughts. Others experience a milder maturation. As I understand it—one such as young Sasugainu, Lord Koshoshiro's son, has undergone the milder experience. However, Lord Inutaisho had revealed to me that his own maturation was rather…"

Kuenai paused, searching Sesshomaru's face. His lips tightened and blanched white. "Violent was the word Lord Inutaisho used to describe it. If you are concerned that you may follow in your honorable father's footsteps…"

Sesshomaru lost his patience though he maintained enough control to cover his annoyance and prevent it from reaching his face. "Tell me what to do," he demanded.

"There is really only one treatment. Lord Sesshomaru must master his own desire. For the safety of all that is done best with seclusion. Otherwise I would recommend frequent trips to the kitsune brothel to the southwest of here."

_Brothel_ was a new word to Sesshomaru. He tilted his head, perplexed. "Explain."

Kuenai leaned forward and lowered his voice. "The kitsune brothel keeps youkai females there. For a fee you can choose any of them you like and keep her an entire night."

Sesshomaru could not stop the sneer of disgust that swept over his face. A wave of heat spread through his body, fueled by disgust and repulsion. "Disgusting." But as he tried to imagine such a place, Sesshomaru's body had other feelings about it and he fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Well—that would fix the problem for a time." Kuenai grinned, delighting for a moment in his ward's predicament. "Perhaps now the young lord understands why this desire is often satisfied rather than ignored. I remember that you were very confused about it." By the look on Sesshomaru's face and his nervous squirming, Kuenai guessed that nothing had really changed. He tried to comfort Sesshomaru. "There is nothing shameful in what is happening to you, Lord Sesshomaru. Nothing at all."

Sesshomaru snarled, curling his lip to expose his canines. "I will not visit a bunch of kitsune. I much prefer seclusion."

Kuenai nodded and sighed. "I thought you would say that. In that case I would advise you to go to Jouka Palace in the Western Lands. It is peaceful, remote, and quiet."

"When?" Sesshomaru asked with a beat of urgency.

"As soon as you want, or when you feel in danger of losing control."

"I am not in danger of that," Sesshomaru snapped.

"Of course," Kuenai said, not bothering to disguise the fact that he thought Sesshomaru was lying. "Stay at Jouka until you feel the desire slacken. I must warn you, Lord Sesshomaru. This process can take _years._ As long as 15 or more years in fact. It will be 50 years before I can promise any true success and mastery on your part."

"You doubt my self-control?" Sesshomaru asked with a dangerous grumble.

"Not at all," Kuenai said, unperturbed by his pupil's anger. "But when it first awakens the drive is very strong and you are—forgive me—inexperienced. It will be new to you. It will test you. It may be 15 years before you can trust yourself to leave Jouka Palace. And then you may be subject to attacks, flare-ups if you will, for another 50 years."

"Then I will remain in seclusion until I am 200," Sesshomaru said, raising his chin stubbornly.

Kuenai chuckled and shook his head. "No, you mustn't do that, Sesshomaru. You are entering your prime. You must make a name for yourself. This drive will help. You will have boundless energy and potential. You must use it."

"I have no need of it," Sesshomaru said, almost muttering.

Kuenai eyed Sesshomaru with growing amusement. "I think Lord Sesshomaru will find enormous pleasure from it in time. It is in the mastery of the sexual drive that a male inuyoukai derives the greatest enjoyment and delight. The ultimate test," Kuenai said, whispering, "is to seduce and perform the sexual act with a human woman. They are immensely fragile…"

"Disgusting," Sesshomaru growled. "Filth. This Sesshomaru would never degrade himself with such a despicable act."

"Lord Sesshomaru's own father devised this test and recommends it," Kuenai said.

Sesshomaru ended the conversation after this news, unable to comprehend any more. He went to sleep that night in the Nanka castle and endured sexual dreams where he first watched his father rutting with a human woman, a maid, then Sesshomaru took a turn. He woke from the dream bathed in sweat and fully aroused and growled in self-loathing and disgust. He took out the energy on the futon, tearing it apart, then shredding the blankets and furs. He nearly took his claws to the white fur boa that Koshoshiro had given him, but at the last moment, panting, he stopped. The fur reminded him not only of his father, but also his mother. He let the warm, ancient milk-memories wash over him. Aggression left him, replaced by lassitude.

A slow, comforting resolve filled him. _I will overcome this difficulty. I will master it, best it. I will not give in._

He left on his own for Jouka the next morning, carrying only a little bit of food, water, and writing tools for his long stay at the palace.

Sesshomaru stayed there, alone, hunting for himself and walking alone through the meadows and valleys, forests, and rocky mountains, for nearly 15 years. It was only 7 years that he felt it truly necessary, when he tore up the ground and lusted for blood and dreamed constantly of sex, but Sesshomaru enjoyed the peace and quiet. He internalized the scent of the fresh rain, the feeling of moss beneath his bare feet as it sank under his weight. He relished the cold water of mountain lakes, the mists that rolled over the hills, the dew on wildflowers. And in the winter he admired the whirling of the wind in blizzards, the dance of circular snow-devils over the endless drifts of white. And on days when the air was warmer, hinting at spring, the song of the water dripping from the eaves and trickling over the ground in little gullies lulled him to sleep and greeted him each morning.

In the spring of Sesshomaru's 142nd year of life the solitary existence came to an abrupt ending. Sesshomaru felt the presence of two inuyoukai and swiftly recognized Kuenai as well as Inutaisho himself. He returned to Jouka Palace to greet them officially, dressing in the same haori and hakama that he had first arrived in almost 15 years previously. It was a childish design of lines and squares in brown and white. The only thing that Sesshomaru had changed about his clothing in 15 years was the constant presence now of the white fur boa wrapped around one shoulder.

Though Sesshomaru had not noticed any physical changes in himself, he saw the astonishment in both of his visitors when he met with them. He greeted them as elders, with respect, but even as he bowed to them, Sesshomaru felt their awe.

Kuenai did most of the talking while Inutaisho sat quietly, regarding his son with a bizarre, almost hostile glare.

"Lord Inutaisho and I have come to bring you out of hiding, Lord Sesshomaru," Kuenai said, smiling warmly. "You have been much missed by both your honorable mother and by Lord Inutaisho."

"I have no desire to return to either Kagetsu or to Nejiro Castle," Sesshomaru told Kuenai, but he was peering at his father curiously, blandly studying the older inuyoukai's expression, wondering what it meant.

"Lord Sesshomaru has not seen Lady Shiroihana in over fifteen years!" Kuanai reminded him. "Lady Shiroihana has been aggrieved that you insist on skulking here."

In the years of solitude, Sesshomaru had come to view his mother with a critical eye. His earliest memories of her were always fond, and of all the beings in his life, Sesshomaru still cared the most for her, but he was also suspicious of her. He had started to notice her constant negativity toward Inutaisho. He did not take her at face value any longer, though doubting Shiroihana pained him greatly.

After all, he was reminded of her constantly. Every time he caught his own reflection in a pool or a stream, or in a mirror, he saw the mark of the Kosetsu, the crescent moon like a bruise on his forehead that never faded. It was a charge, a calling that followed him as loyally as his shadow.

"I am certain Mother has survived," he said, affecting a cold but passive outer appearance.

"She longs to see you again!" Kuenai exclaimed.

"She could have visited if that was her wish," Sesshomaru said. "I have written to her steadily."

"Eh," Kuenai grunted, shrugging. The teasing and reprimands were over apparently. Sesshomaru had won out.

"The bitch is as bad as you are," Inutaisho interjected, scowling. "Never leaves Kagetsu or Kosetsu."

Sesshomaru narrowed his eyes slightly on his father but said nothing. He focused on Kuenai instead. "If your only goal was to get me to leave Jouka Palace then you have both failed. Yet you remain here. Is there something else?"

Both men wore expressions of amusement then. Kuenai spoke, "We have come to pose a test to Lord Sesshomaru. A challenge. The reason for your seclusion is no secret between us." Kuenai gestured in a circle, indicating all three of them, Inutaisho included.

Sesshomaru's nostrils flared, the only sign that he was annoyed with Kuenai for revealing the truth to Inutaisho—even though it was easy enough for a father to guess what his son was going through.

"We have decided to make a journey with the express purpose of taking Lord Sesshomaru with us," Kuenai said.

Sesshomaru glanced to Inutaisho, revealing a little glimmer of excitement and hope in his eye. He had missed Inutaisho and received fewer letters from his father than his mother as a rule because Inutaisho was out and about more often.

"A journey?" he asked and at once imagined that Inutaisho would present him with a sword or would tell him to slay some enormous beast as a test. He wriggled his fingers, touching the tips of his claws to his palms to test the sharpness.

"To the kitsune brothel," Kuenai said, grinning. "Lord Sesshomaru has never known willing female flesh and he has clearly shown his patience and self-mastery."

Sesshomaru pulled back and blinked, as if he had been slapped. He recovered almost immediately and said, "I have no desire to end my time here."

"It's not about what you want anymore," Inutaisho announced, grunting. "It isn't right to be celibate. No son of mine is going to sit around here until his balls rot off from lack of use."

"Ridiculous," Sesshomaru blurted. He stared at Inutaisho, outraged and embarrassed at his father's crude, humiliating language.

"Feh," Inutaisho snorted. "You are young, Son. You are unattached. _Free._ It is _ridiculous_ for you to sit around this palace alone. You should be _enjoying_ yourself."

Sesshomaru had been enjoying himself, free in the wilds, alone. It was only with his parents that he felt _trapped._ His eyes glowed with suppressed fury as he stared at Inutaisho and sought the right answer to turn away this inuyoukai who had fathered him, whose blood and genes comprised half of Sesshomaru himself.

He could think of nothing to say, nothing that he also wanted Kuenai to hear.

Sesshomaru inclined his head slightly. "Very well, but I am fully mature. I am not under your control, Chichiue."

Inutaisho opened his mouth to protest but Sesshomaru ignored him.

"When I wish to leave, and if I decide to abstain from the activities you have planned for me, you will not try to detain me against my will. Do you agree?"

Inutaisho scowled, but his eyes were bright with the same conflicted emotion that Sesshomaru had seen when he had first adopted his true form and when he had failed the test Wind Scar with Tetsusaiga. Inutaisho nodded. "Fine," he paused and then narrowed his eyes. _"Sesshomaru."_

There was something odd in the way he pronounced his son's name. Sesshomaru had heard Inutaisho call him by name before, but it was rare. Shiroihana had noticed it long ago and correctly identified _why_ Inutaisho avoided using his son's given name. It was because he had not escaped the other identity wrapped up with that name, Shiroihana's younger brother, the youth that Inutaisho had killed.

Now he called his son by that name, acknowledging it, but Sesshomaru could not tell who Inutaisho was speaking to in that moment. Was he naming his son, realizing that _Sesshomaru_ was just a name to call _his son_, or was he seeing _Shiroihana's brother_ in his son and naming that stubborn, inner strength _Sesshomaru?_

"Excellent!" Kuenai yelled, shattering the tense moment between father and son. "Let's get going then!"

* * *

So this chapter we got to see more between Inutaisho and Sesshomaru. Also, Sess now has his infamous fluff!

Next chapter:

Inutaisho embarrasses his son: 

_Inutaisho glared over his shoulder, eyeing his son warily. Then he turned back to the fox as if Sesshomaru had not spoken. "My son is the important one here. This is his first time."_

Sesshomaru has a problem with sex and everyone can tell, especially Ame, the kitsune prostitute.

_"Only parents could fuck up someone as perfect as you!" Ame said, snickering. "And only your mother would have touched you like I just did. Perhaps she touched you inappropriately…?"_

Shiroihana starts trying to meddle in Sesshomaru's future. 

_Shiroihana glared. Her eyes were bright and moist, her face dappled with emotion. She reached out a trembling hand and touched the sharp edges of her claws to Sesshomaru's forehead, to the crescent moon. "You cannot escape Fate," she said. "We are as ants to it. Only ants. You have a destiny already planned. You will give me daughters to rule the Kosetsu after my death."_

Then Sesshomaru discovers his mother's secret sin, stretching his loyalty to her microscopically thin.

_"This Sesshomaru cannot. There is only one course by which Mother can appease the situation. She must end her marriage to Chichiue or recommit to him. Until then this Sesshomaru will reject Lady Shiroihana in every way possible."_

Meanwhile Inutaisho wants to reconcile with his wife:

_"You wish to reconcile?" Sesshomaru asked blankly, outwardly revealing only mild interest._

_"I would trade an arm," he muttered. "She will not have me. Stubborn bitch."_

And last but not least...

_Shiroihana's next words were aimed at the girl directly. "What is your name, little child?"_

_The girl answered without hesitation. "Izayoi."_


	14. Sesshomaru: Brothel, Betrayal, Hostage

A/N: All right, sorry for my absence again. School, internship, boyfriend/fiance...etc. Okay.

Disclaimer: I do not own them.

Last Chapter: Sess finally reached physical maturity (i.e., he got...do I have to say it? My boyfriend likes to refer to this condition as "a boner.") and hated it. He went into seclusion for close to 15 years, at Kuenai's suggestion. Sess has also been gradually bonding with Inutaisho, coming to doubt his mother's interpretation of his father. But he failed his first run with Tetsusaiga and Inutaisho did not bother explaining the secrets of the sword to our young hero. Before that Koshoshiro got a little too comfortable with Sess and suggested marriage between him and Taikokajin, his daughter. Sess had no interest in her.

* * *

"Sex Without Love" by Sharon Olds (first half)

How do they do it, the ones who make love  
without love? Beautiful as dancers,  
gliding over each other like ice-skaters  
over the ice, fingers hooked  
inside each other's bodies, faces  
red as steak, wine, wet as the  
children at birth whose mothers are going to  
give them away.

* * *

Sesshomaru

(Letter to Inutaisho in Nejiro Castle from Kagetsu palace in the Kosetsu)

Chichiue,

Mother has insisted on marriage for myself. It is against my wishes. She also wished for my signature and approval of a will for myself that was made of her own devising. The language indicated that the document's intention was toward future offspring. Apparently Mother intends to possess her granddaughters. I have naturally refused to sign it.

It is possible to evade the will, but I fear her plans regarding marriage. I have no desire to ally myself with the Middle Lands as she has suggested. I seek Chichiue's influence in this matter. Mother will not likely listen, but Chichiue has the power to disrupt her plans.

Sesshomaru

Son of Queen Shiroihana  
and Lord Inutaisho  
of the Western Lands

* * *

**The Brothel, the Betrayal, and the Hostage**

It was difficult at first for Sesshomaru to readjust to having company other than the air, the sky, and the earth around him. Inutaisho and Kuenai talked a lot more, for one thing, and the constant presence of their auras distracted Sesshomaru from the road and the raw land.

The trek to the brothel took them through steep, rugged mountains, covered in spiky pine forests. The air was fragrant, sweet and sharp at once. Snow lingered in the shadows at the highest elevations. Inutaisho scooped up handfuls of the icy, hardened slush and chewed on it or brushed the moisture over his armor to clean off the dust. Kuenai practiced Chinese with them both, conversing between father and son, testing their vocabulary as well as his own.

Inutaisho was a lingual expert and slipped with slick ease between Japanese and the language of the mainlanders. Sesshomaru listened respectfully and did not try to flaunt what little he knew or understood. Sesshomaru was 142 years of age but he realized he knew almost nothing about his father. As Inutaisho began jabbering in another language that Kuenai did not know and had never heard of before, Sesshomaru's thoughts soured.

_Why has Father never been more than a teacher to me? Teacher and childhood playmate. _Was the problem only Shiroihana, or was it Sesshomaru too? Or was it Inutaisho himself?

Shiroihana insisted that Inutaisho saw imaginary fault in Sesshomaru. Was that true, or was it a lie? Not everything that Shiroihana said was a lie, however. Sesshomaru had to learn how to test what she said against reality. What was genuine from Shiroihana and what was embittered, furious retribution? What was manipulation?

He thought of Koshoshiro and his family in the Nanka. Why couldn't Inutaisho and Shiroihana, Sesshomaru's honorable sires, be that simple, that peaceful?

Sesshomaru stared at his father's broad back, made even wider by the plates of armor over his shoulders. _I will try harder, Father. I will overcome Mother's poisonous intentions. I will give you an honest chance._

The brothel was on the western coast of the islands and enclosed within the borders of the Western Lands. Kuenai, Sesshomaru, and Inutaisho reached it after only three days of leisurely travel. Lush gardens extended around the property, welcoming in customers. Sesshomaru enjoyed the scenery and slowed, trailing behind his father and Kuenai to admire the small stream and pruned bushes and bonsai trees, even the small moss garden. Koi fish, colored in resplendent white, gold, red, and orange, gathered in the deeper segments of the stream.

As Kuenai and Inutaisho crossed the stream over a small, decorative wood bridge, Sesshomaru lingered, watching the flash of the koi under the water. He admired their scales and considered eating one halfheartedly. He was not hungry but his body would never reject a meal while he was still in the process of maturing. Even at 142 years, Sesshomaru still had to eat, drink, and sleep regularly. It would be another ten, even thirty or so years before he was finished with everything.

Fish tended to be cold and slimy and swam through him, digested too fast to be enjoyable anyway. Sesshomaru moved on and crossed the arched bridge.

They were greeted just inside the open doors by two young fox kits, a boy and a girl. The entryway was much like an audience hall with a platform where the hosts would sit and tatami matting covering the floor for a comfortable place for everyone to sit. It was over-decorated with gold leaf on the walls and bright, gaudy colors in the scenes that were painted over the screens. Unlike an audience room, no one sat down and there was almost no waiting before a kitsune appeared, stepping out from a side doorway, and greeted them with a deep bow.

"Welcome lords! Inuyoukai! I do not often have the pleasure of serving your kind here," the kitsune said, smiling wide and mirthlessly.

Sesshomaru wanted to claw the fox's smile from his face. No amount of gardens, koi, gold leaf in the entryway, or red and green dragons, painted as if flying over the screens could disguise the stink of sex in the brothel. Sesshomaru had smelled it before a few times, mostly in connection to his parents. The smell was not arousing—it was disgusting, troubling. Fifteen years ago it might have aroused him, but now it failed to affect him physically, only hitting him on an emotional level.

"Thank you," Inutaisho said, stiffly. "I am Lord In—"

The fox let out a little yipping sound and shook his head, interrupting the powerful inuyoukai lord. "We have no need of names in this place. I understand there is a reason I do not often have inuyoukai here. Your kind are honorable and dignified—and prone to celibacy! A great shame I've always thought." He grinned, sizing up the three of them. "No names, no names at all. But I would ask for payment."

"We have more than enough money—" Kuenai began only to stop as the fox shushed him with a hiss.

"My apologies but money is worthwhile to humans. I'm a kitsune. I deal in many forms of payment." He pointed a clawed finger at the two children knelt near the doorway. "My kits are always hungry and I am too busy to fetch food for them! But by the look of you three…" He licked his lips, leaving a smear of wet saliva over them. "I expect meat and a few vegetables would be easy for you to obtain. I don't care what type of meat. Even foul spider youkai will do."

"The things a fox will feed his children!" Inutaisho said, snarling.

"That is my price," the fox insisted. He wasn't smiling anymore. "No money. Only meat. And vegetables. A balanced variety. A great deal of rice if you can get it."

Sesshomaru realized that the fox was not trying to feed his children with this payment. He was trying to feed an entire community of women, youkai and human alike, who worked in the brothel. The entire scenario sickened Sesshomaru, he had no desire to remain in the room or to see the fox's cruel grin again.

"Chichiue," he said, his voice cold. "I am leaving."

Inutaisho glared over his shoulder, eyeing his son warily. Then he turned back to the fox as if Sesshomaru had not spoken. "My son is the important one here. This is his first time."

The fox smirked now with delight. "Really? Inuyoukai! Such strange beasts!"

Sesshomaru pinched his lips and squared his jaw in silent, unexpressed fury. "Chichiue," he said. The strain in the single word was the only sign of his internal rage.

"You must be the oldest virgin I have seen yet!" the fox exclaimed, thoroughly delighted by Sesshomaru. "What's the matter? Embarrassed? Frightened?"

It was impossible for Sesshomaru to ignore the fox now. "I am not frightened of anything."

"I believe you," the fox said, suddenly somber, even reverent. "You don't even carry a sword while your old man carries three! A most powerful, overwhelming presence! I will not easily forget it."

"Flattery does not become you," Sesshomaru muttered, only mildly pacified. He watched his father with his peripheral vision, wondering who he would turn the spectral whip on first—Inutaisho or the fox.

"So am I correct in assuming I am charging only a day's worth of meat for the three of you?" the fox asked, addressing Kuenai and Inutaisho, ignoring Sesshomaru once more.

"No," Inutaisho growled. "My son is the only one who will require your services—but make it three days worth of food in payment rather than one."

"Ah!" the fox exclaimed, delighted all over again. "A generous father! I would expect nothing else from an inuyoukai!"

"There will be no payment," Sesshomaru interrupted sharply, burying his surprise in his father's change in plan. He had expected Kuenai and Inutaisho to both partake in the _services_ offered by the brothel. Instead both his teacher and his father were abstaining. As for 3 days instead of one? It was nonsense, ridiculous to Sesshomaru.

Inutaisho turned to face his son, scowling. He spoke quietly and directly. "This is a _gift,_ my son. You may do whatever you wish with it—but I recommend you take advantage of it. What you do is your business, but regardless of whether you accept or not we will spend three days here to provide the payment in food."

Sesshomaru's brow furrowed with confusion. "Chichiue?"

"You are free to leave," Inutaisho muttered. "But I will be disappointed."

"I do not wish to do this," Sesshomaru said, nearly whispering. He wanted to turn and leave his father and Kuenai, but the price of meat confounded him and despite his disapproval of what was about to happen—sex involving himself—Sesshomaru found it difficult to push aside his father's wish, even a _gift_ that he didn't want.

Inutaisho's golden eyes roved over his son's face, uncertain. He sighed, his shoulders slouching slightly. "We will speak on this later; Kuenai and I are going to begin the hunt. We will return for you in three days. Do as you wish, _Sesshomaru._"

Then Inutaisho and Kuenai were gone, vanished out the door and back into the gardens. Numb and dumbfounded, Sesshomaru allowed himself to be escorted by the fox into a dark, smoky room where a cage with thick, wooden bars trapped several women in gaudy, musty smelling kimono. They were all human with dark, straight black hair. They sat together, tired, worn out. Their eyes were empty when they glanced uncaringly at Sesshomaru and the fox escorting him.

"Does the lord care for a human as his first conquest?" the fox asked, snickering.

Staring at the humans opened a bizarre emotion inside Sesshomaru. He had felt it for Inutaisho when Shiroihana aborted her unborn pups, and then once for a small fish he'd seen snatched up by a large mantis. The mantis had eaten the little fish, bite by bite, in spite of the fact that it was still alive and struggling. It was a tiny scene of horror in the natural world, the little fish being eaten alive, bite by bite. The same emotion had stirred inside him, inspired by the fish's suffering.

The word to best describe the emotion was _pity._ It was rare inside the usually icy young lord.

"Considering the price your father is paying I would not even mind it if you killed the one you chose," the fox said, as if that was a selling point.

"You insult me," Sesshomaru murmured with a glare.

"Well in that case it's off to the youkai ladies," the fox said and headed off confidently. Sesshomaru followed after him reluctantly. They entered a narrower hallway, colored again in bright gold leaf. Green leaves were occasionally painted over the screens.

"I have just the vixen for you," the fox declared. He stopped halfway down the corridor and tapped on the closed screen door. "Open up Ame! I have a special customer out here waiting on you!"

It was early in the day and apparently the fox had caught Ame the fox sleeping. She rolled open the screen and stared out at the fox and then quizzically at Sesshomaru. Her nostrils twitched, flaring wide.

"Dog demon?" she asked, surprised.

"He has never known the pleasures of the flesh," the fox said, snickering. "I know I can trust you to take care of him."

The vixen had a significant aura and her scent was pleasant. She was not dressed properly, wearing only a thin, short robe. Her tail stuck out the other end. It was long and thin, not as bushy as the other foxes that Sesshomaru had seen. She was tawny colored, a blonde, but her eyes were deep red. Her canines glimmered when she grinned. It was a predatory look, lacking real amusement.

"Really?" she asked, replying to the male fox's information. Sesshomaru forced himself to look away, to avoid revealing his humiliation or his anxiety—or his interest. He could not escape the fact that he thought the vixen was attractive. Her scent was the first female youkai's he had paid any attention to since leaving his seclusion at Jouka and it was having an effect on his mind and body.

"He has you for three days if he wants," the fox said. "Make his first time memorable, Ame."

The vixen cackled. "You idiot—I make _every time_ memorable!"

Sesshomaru watched his escort leave blandly, but he shifted uncomfortably, aware of the rising desire in his body, the spreading heat in his loins and in his face. He could control them both—barely.

"Are you coming in?" the vixen asked, taunting him. "Or would you prefer that I wash up a little first?" She giggled mischievously. "You can wait in my room—out of sight."

Sesshomaru glanced at Ame. Her legs were shapely, toned. He wondered if he could overpower her, pin her beneath him. She was smaller than he was, built on a lighter, shorter frame as both a woman and a fox. Inutaisho and Kuenai were working to pay for this _gift_ and logically Sesshomaru knew he would have to go through with it, learn to like it even. This place was like a dojo, a training hall for sparring. It was practice for "the real thing." Kuenai had told Sesshomaru that one day he would derive enormous pleasure from pleasing a mate. That took mastery of both the act itself and the body.

He remembered Inutaisho's sudden outburst in the foreign language. Inutaisho had insisted that Sesshomaru go through with this. _Chichiue is experienced. He has never led me wholly, willfully astray._

What harm was there in trying the act once? Just for practice.

* * *

In spite of his emotional hang-ups, Sesshomaru had no trouble performing the sexual act, but after the climax had passed Sesshomaru withdrew, filled with anger and disgust. It was not aimed at Ame the vixen, but at himself. He could not escape the association of sex with turmoil and grief—abuse. Inutaisho and Shiroihana had only abused it. They felt nothing but hate for one another and yet joined physically. It was deceitful, filthy. Sesshomaru could not reconcile his own limited experience with the past.

In the vulnerable time after the coupling, Sesshomaru was open, raw and exposed. He moved to put on his clothes, scowling and breathing hard, fast. He was sweating, frantic to leave the small, tight room behind him—to escape the thick, cloying scent of their sweat and body fluids.

"What's wrong?" Ame asked, alarmed.

Sesshomaru did not answer her. He was already tying his hakama closed and scanning the floor for his haori.

Ame let out a chuckle. "I know it wasn't that bad! But you're running away like a scared rabbit! Are you afraid of me?"

Sesshomaru paused, still panting, shoulders heaving. Sweat trickled down the groove in his back. He tried to close his eyes and dismiss what she'd said but Ame had partly broken his spell of claustrophobic panic.

"I have no fear of you."

"Then it's sex," Ame said, reading him instantly.

Sesshomaru finished tying his hakama and narrowed his eyes at Ame. "I fear nothing."

"Then why are you running away?" Ame teased, grinning. She was lying on her small futon, naked. Her skin gleamed with moisture. There were spots at her neck, bruises and puncture wounds where Sesshomaru had held or bitten her in a bloodlust. They were already fading. Sesshomaru's skin was not unmarked by Ame in return. Unlike the human women, who were coerced into service, captured by the kitsune, the vixen and other youkai women like her, worked for enjoyment.

"I am not running," Sesshomaru murmured. It was unconvincing. Neither of them believed him.

Ame's smirk faded, sobering. She sat upright and examined Sesshomaru for a moment. Then she said, "Inuyoukai are renowned for being monogamous—even celibate in their middle and old age. But the young ones…" She pressed her tongue to one canine, distracting Sesshomaru for a moment. "Someone like you should be more than a little lusty, unless there was something physically wrong. But there's nothing wrong at all with you." She laughed, a musical sound, pleasant to Sesshomaru's sensitive ears. "You're a fine dog and I'm going to remember you—but I'm not finished with you yet."

"I do as I wish," Sesshomaru told her, growling.

"You've been mature for years now. I can smell it on you. You could be married by now." She shook her head, perplexed. "Why are you so terrified of sex?"

"I am leaving," Sesshomaru said.

Ame sprang before he could reach for the door. She held his forearm, preventing him from sliding the screen door open. She peered up into his eyes. Gold met red, the color of the koi in the stream in the gardens outside. "If you leave Dog you will be running away. If you stay I can cure your fear. Then you really will be fearless, magnificent as you should be. One as beautiful as you should not be afraid of sex." She laughed. "Dog—how will you love your wife if you cannot have sex with her? And what will she think if you run afterwards!"

Sesshomaru tore his arm from her grip. "Silence." He glared at Ame but did not run. They were silent for several tense heartbeats, and then Sesshomaru admitted, "The carnal act disgusts me."

Ame cocked her head, frowning. "Why is that?"

Sesshomaru glanced away from her and at the door, longing to leave but unable to do so. He could not escape Ame's point, her suggestion of "curing" him. Everyone around Sesshomaru seemed to think that sex was wonderful, delicious, like a delicacy or a luxurious robe, soft silk against the skin. They pushed him toward it, tried to make him enjoy it, too. Sesshomaru knew he was the odd one out and wanted to escape it.

But it was impossible to put any of what he felt or what he had experienced into words.

Ame reached up and touched his face, tracing the marks on his cheeks. The motion reminded Sesshomaru sickeningly of his mother. He growled and turned his face away, curling one lip.

Ame made a clucking noise with her lips, tongue and teeth. "I know now. It's a family issue. Maybe a mommy-issue."

Sesshomaru glared at her venomously.

"Only parents could fuck up someone as perfect as you!" Ame said, snickering. "And only your mother would have touched you like I just did. Perhaps she touched you inappropriately…?"

Sesshomaru growled and grabbed her neck with one hand, instantly closing the airway. "Say anything else about my mother and I will kill you."

Ame did not appear ruffled at all when Sesshomaru released her. She breathed a little harder, her face flushed pink. She reacted with arousal to his violence instead of fear. "Whatever your problem is," she rumbled, "I'm going to fix it."

* * *

Three days later Sesshomaru left Ame, satisfied and relaxed. He had not completely overcome his gut reaction to sex as repulsive and shameful—but the connection he had been unable to escape with associating it with his parents was at last gone. Ame's body and eagerness to please had blasted it away. Sesshomaru thought fondly of the vixen and wished her well. The experience was altogether a positive one. The sex between his parents had been bitter, fake, false, but between himself and Ame it was fun, warm, and relaxing.

The only troubling portion of it was the connection it forged, the vulnerability Sesshomaru felt inside himself. He had so few emotional connections in his life—the deepest were to his mother and father who seemed intent on hurting him. Sex seemed to jumpstart his emotions, to drive him to connect with someone else. It was safer and easier to evade sex and any temptations to form emotional bonds. The ties he had currently, after all, only weakened him.

They traveled deeper into the Western Lands for two days before Inutaisho approached Sesshomaru to ask much the same questions that Ame had. What was Sesshomaru's sexual hang-up anyway? Sesshomaru evaded his father's questions and instead posed a few of his own.

"Why did Chichiue pay for three nights? And why did Chichiue not partake himself?"

"Feh!" Inutaisho snorted. "Has it been so long since you saw your mother that you've forgotten about her?"

This answer made little sense to Sesshomaru but he did not ask about it further. Shiroihana had always maintained that Inutaisho was unfaithful while he was away, but if that was the case he was unwilling to reveal it to his son. Sesshomaru approved of the decision nonetheless.

"And the three nights?" he asked.

Inutaisho sobered. "Even whores must eat."

Sesshomaru was silent, contemplating this. Inutaisho had sacrificed three days worth of hunting to feed a bunch of women he didn't know and had no intention of collecting any reward. It was confounding, a waste to Sesshomaru—but then again, the entire brothel was a waste to Sesshomaru. He would have killed the human women to end their suffering and let the youkai women do whatever they wanted. He would not have wasted time _feeding_ any of them.

"You don't understand, do you?" Inutaisho asked, scowling.

"Chichiue is preserving their lives," Sesshomaru said dispassionately.

Inutaisho growled, snorting. "Feh. That's one way to put it." He cocked his head, regarding his son. "You have no understanding of compassion, do you?"

That wasn't true. Sesshomaru felt compassion, but it was not a common, everyday emotion for him. He did not understand compassion in a wide-ranging sense. For Sesshomaru compassion extended only to himself and his immediate family and friends. There was no one else in his narrow existence.

"I understand compassion," Sesshomaru murmured.

Inutaisho grunted, unimpressed. "Of course you do. Just like your mother understands it."

There was nothing Sesshomaru could say to _that._ They did not speak for the remainder of the day.

At sunset Kuenai announced that it was time for them to split. The teacher wanted to stay with Sesshomaru, to continue his education in whatever way the young lord wanted. Inutaisho would head to Nejiro castle. Both of the older inuyoukai assumed that Sesshomaru would return to Jouka and his life of solitude in the wilds.

Sesshomaru decided to surprise them.

"I will go to Nejiro with Chichiue," he said, speaking to Kuenai.

"Really?" the teacher asked, arching his eyebrows.

Inutaisho looked his son up and down and then smiled with excitement and approval. "It will be good to have you, Sesshomaru."

* * *

Sesshomaru began a new lifestyle, bouncing between his separate parents. At first Shiroihana wrote to Sesshomaru and asked him to spy on Inutaisho while he was in Nejiro. Sesshomaru refused politely and explained his visit as furthering his education. Shiroihana was unhappy, hurt. Sesshomaru read her letters and then burned them, trying to banish her pain from his mind. He could never stop loving her as his mother, his first protector and caretaker, but he could not escape the knowledge that she had poisoned him against his father, that _she_ was the problem in their relationship.

The longer he stayed with his father, the more he knew that Shiroihana was the one caught in a past that Sesshomaru could not know or understand. She refused to overcome it and in that decision willed herself, her son, and her trapped husband into misery.

Inutaisho was faithful to her. Sesshomaru accompanied his father everywhere and did not once see anything inappropriate. Father and son traveled together through the Western Lands, slaying enemies and monstrous youkai. Inutaisho filled their time together with stories of faraway lands and taught his son snippets of the languages he had heard.

"It is called Russian. The humans there look completely foreign. They are hairy like bears. In the countries beyond China on the mainland there are humans who eat this nonsense stuff—_bread._ It is made from their favorite crop, a weedy plant they call _wheat._ It looks like the grass…"

"They do not grow rice?" Sesshomaru asked.

"No and they don't bathe either. They are barbarians. They stink."

Sesshomaru didn't much care about the human cultures of those distant lands. He wondered about the youkai instead. "What of our kind, Chichiue?"

Inutaisho scowled and slashed with his claws. They were crossing through a thick grove of bamboo. Green shoots and stalks fell around them, like confetti or limey snow. "Youkai are very rare in countries beyond these lands. The barbarians have slaughtered them mercilessly."

This was hard to grasp for Sesshomaru. Youkai were so common in Japan…

After one full season in Nejiro, after the passage of fall and the first warm melts of springtime, Sesshomaru reluctantly returned to his mother in Kagetsu palace. He expected the visit to be particularly painful, excruciating even. Instead Shiroihana was loving rather than smothering and had little to say about Inutaisho. It was almost as if he had ceased to exist for her.

Sesshomaru spent the rest of the year with her comfortably, but he suffered from boredom without the constant travel and training that Inutaisho gave him in Nejiro. Sesshomaru took to making trips with Daken the messenger to escape the confines of Kagetsu until winter closed him in.

When spring came Sesshomaru left the Kagetsu for Nejiro and rejoined his father. Life settled into an almost enjoyable pace. Shiroihana and Inutaisho had finally learned to share him. It had to be done while they were physically apart. As long as the Western Lands were peaceful there was no need for Shiroihana and Inutaisho to be in the same place with one another.

In this way Sesshomaru passed over fifty years uneventfully, balancing his time between parents and learning what he could from each one—but ultimately no force could keep the peace forever. The first trouble came in the spring after the winter that marked Sesshomaru's second century.

At 200 years old he rarely required sleep any longer but still ate on a regular basis. Shiroihana had casually started suggesting that it was time for him to marry. Sesshomaru had been eligible for betrothal all of his life. Some clans betrothed newborn pups even before they had given them an official name. Other families waited and took their time making the decision. Usually marriages were done for the purposes of alliance, to unite two clans. Sometimes they were done only for breeding purposes; still others were done to solidify treaties at the end of wars. Sesshomaru had not been betrothed at birth, but now Shiroihana took it upon herself to contemplate her son's future—and through him the Kosetsu.

"_You must not waste any time. You must have pups, daughters. Remember the mark on your forehead. You are the heir of the Kosetsu before you are Inutaisho's heir to the Western Lands!"_

Her letters were tight, nervous. Sesshomaru could read her emotion on the page easily and reacted with caution. He replied cordially, reassuring her that he would make sure that his daughters inherited the Kosetsu, but he dismissed the idea of marriage. Though Sesshomaru had been sexually mature for over fifty years and could have married even a little before his sex drive stirred for the first time, he disliked the thought of marriage and planned to evade it as long as possible.

"_Chichiue did not marry until he was 300 years old. There is no need to hurry or worry over the decision. There is also no one available."_

He hoped his answer would put an end to her insistence, but it didn't. When Sesshomaru visited her that year Shiroihana had prepared a will for him that designated his daughters as the sole heirs of the Kosetsu. Sesshomaru looked over the language and bristled with irritation.

"This is unacceptable, Mother."

They were sitting in the records room, at a small writing table. The ink was drying over because Sesshomaru had been reading for such a long time and with a careful eye. Shiroihana reached for the inkwell and the stone and began grinding it again. Her lips were set in a hard line.

"What is unacceptable about it, Sesshomaru?" she asked patiently, but Sesshomaru did not miss the tense edge to her movement as she wetted the ink.

"This seems to indicate that I would have fewer rights as a father than you as a grandmother," Sesshomaru murmured quietly.

"Sesshomaru," Shiroihana cooed his name. "Of course you will have rights as a father. But I know you will be more concerned with the Western Lands and with your wife—and making a son."

Sesshomaru set the document down on the writing table and began rolling it up. "I will not sign this. It is too soon for either of us to predict such futures. I am not even betrothed."

"But I am arranging a marriage," Shiroihana protested, laying her clawed hands over her son's to stop him from rolling up the document.

Sesshomaru eyed his mother warily over the writing table. "I have heard nothing of a marriage."

Shiroihana smiled, but there was no mirth in her eyes. "The woman I have in mind is from the Middle Lands."

"Lord Koshoshiro's daughter?" Sesshomaru asked, sneering. "I had heard rumor that she is already betrothed."

"No," Shiroihana said, laughing in a high, false titter. "It's not Lady Taikokajin. I did not want you to marry an older woman and Lord Koshoshiro needed to make the alliance for that alliance for the betterment of the Middle Lands. No, the betrothal I am working out involves one of Lord Nishiyori's female relatives."

"Nonsense," Sesshomaru muttered. "I will not marry anyone from that clan. I will not ally myself to them."

Shiroihana scoffed and released his hands, allowing Sesshomaru to roll up the document. Her hands were closed tightly into fists. "Sesshomaru," she complained. "You are so stubborn! Why do you resist my plans? I do it only for your benefit!"

"I believe," Sesshomaru told her, "that I am now old enough to plan my future for myself."

Shiroihana glared. Her eyes were bright and moist, her face dappled with emotion. She reached out a trembling hand and touched the sharp edges of her claws to Sesshomaru's forehead, to the crescent moon. "You cannot escape Fate," she said. "We are as ants to it. Only ants. You have a destiny already planned. You will give me daughters to rule the Kosetsu after my death."

Sesshomaru bound the document using a strip of leather. He did not meet his mother's eye. "I will do as I please, Mother."

He left the document sitting on the desk and strode out of the room without looking back. But as he rounded the corner he heard Shiroihana curse and whisper to herself. _"Forgive me, Mother,"_ she said, "I have lost him."

* * *

For another year or so life was peaceable, and then disaster descended all over again.

Midway through the year messengers arrived at Nejiro and delivered news to Inutaisho and Sesshomaru that two warrior families were feuding in the far eastern province of the Western Lands. It touched the ocean and provided generous payment in rice and fish. It had always been under human control because humans made the best fishermen and whalers. An all-out war would destroy invaluable crop fields, disrupting the rice harvest.

Inutaisho wasted no time in making his decision. Some fights resolved themselves, but when humans warred amongst themselves the feuds almost never ended without intercession. Inutaisho sent Sesshomaru to Kagetsu to fetch Shiroihana. The inuyoukai rulers would present a strong, unified leadership to quell the human fighting.

Sesshomaru set off alone without any messengers. He was more than strong enough to defend himself and knew how to navigate through the vast stretches of his father's land. It was in midsummer, the skies were heavy with rain and the humidity and heat were suffocating. The world was lazy, slow and languid. Only Sesshomaru moved with any haste.

He reached the mountain that Kagetsu palace stood on and immediately knew that something strange was going on. Sesshomaru hesitated only a moment before hurrying up the long stair to the open doors of the palace. They were always shrouded in mist but Sesshomaru almost thought it was smoke with how thick it was with the humidity and gathering summer rains.

Shiroihana would have sensed his arrival by way of his aura—but she was not waiting for him in the white audience room. A gecko maid appeared with a tray. It was clumsily arranged. Tea had spilled. There were three teacups—the wrong number. It should have only been two, one for Sesshomaru and one for Shiroihana.

But Sesshomaru was not the only one in Kagetsu palace.

A monkey tried to bow to him and speak—they never had mastered language very well—but Sesshomaru ignored it and pressed deeper into the palace. He left the gecko and the monkey behind in the white room and headed through the terrace, following his mother's aura and the mixed scents.

It was the stink of arousal, sex, sweat, and sexual fluids. Both male and female.

Sesshomaru burst into the long corridor that housed his mother's bed chambers. He picked out the scents and auras before he saw his mother emerge, but the visual confirmation was violent and sickening, a punch to his stomach.

"Sesshomaru!" Shiroihana cried, stunned and flabbergasted at his arrival. She was wearing a soft gray robe with a thin white sash. It was not properly closed and exposed some of the bare flesh of her chest. Sesshomaru could see the swell of each breast though the nipple was covered. His mother's neck was marked by bite marks. A thin smell of blood filled the air, male and female.

"Mother," Sesshomaru said. He stared at her, cold and stiff.

Shiroihana pulled nervously at her robe and lurched forward in a rough motion, as if she would fight him, but she stopped after only a few steps. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, stammering. "What's happened?"

Sesshomaru's eyes strayed to the open doorway to her bedchambers. He could smell her lover there, hear his rapid heartbeat, smell the lingering arousal, the staleness of sweat. This affair had not been a recent event. Shiroihana had been occupied with her lover for several days, perhaps even weeks.

There was no way to know whether this was the first summer that she had done this, how long she had cheated while Inutaisho stayed alone at Nejiro, angry and hurt but unwilling to break his commitment physically. Even if Inutaisho had bedded another woman, youkai or human, Sesshomaru knew it would not be a prolonged event. It would not be an emotional release, only a physical one. This was more than that—his mother was conducting a long term affair. She had turned her back on Inutaisho without telling him, without freeing him to move on.

It was surprisingly easy for Sesshomaru to close off the hurt, the betrayal, in his heart.

"Mother," he said, speaking calmly and without emotion, as if she had greeted him normally and fully clothed in the white audience room—as if her lover wasn't just a few feet away on the other side of the screen walls, listening to every word and pretending that he wasn't really there like a pathetic coward. "Father has sent me."

"What does he want?" Shiroihana asked without pause. She was breathing fast, her shoulders rising and falling. Her hands clenched at her neckline, holding the robe tightly shut, concealing her scandalous, lusty skin.

"He requests honorable Mother's presence at his side to face a threat to the distant east coast of the Western Lands," Sesshomaru told her blankly.

Shiroihana let out a little croaking laugh. She was shivering with tension and humiliation. "Who's fighting now, Sesshomaru? Will he send you like an obedient lap dog to slaughter them? Or perhaps you will begin with me?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Sesshomaru muttered. "I come only as a messenger with sudden news."

"Your father will kill me," Shiroihana hissed. Her shaking increased and she closed her eyes. "My own son has killed me."

"Enough," Sesshomaru ordered her, snapping a little. "Chichiue will not harm you."

"You will not tell him?" Shiroihana asked, biting her lip, holding her breath.

Sesshomaru's stomach and throat were hard and cold. A faint queasiness had started and refused to leave his gut. He nodded at his mother. "Chichiue will not know."

She started to walk toward him, moving as if to hug him but Sesshomaru took a step backward, withdrawing from her. Mother and son halted, regarding each other tensely once more.

"Sesshomaru?" Shiroihana asked. Sesshomaru could not see her tears but he smelled them, sweet and salty at once. They stood out against the other odors of sex, carnal passion. "Forgive me."

"No," he said, icily. "This Sesshomaru cannot forgive."

"I am finished with Inutaisho," Shiroihana snarled, transformed by suddenly by hatred.

Sesshomaru ignored her vehemence. "Mother has not yet told Chichiue that she has finished with him. Chichiue is dedicated to Mother. He is faithful. Mother is not."

"That's not true," Shiroihana blustered. "You are not with him all the time, Sesshomaru. He is a barbarian, a brute who craves every type of power. Ko—"

"Silence," Sesshomaru ordered her. He gazed at her for a moment and then said, "I am leaving."

"You won't tell Inutaisho?" Shiroihana demanded, reaching for her son's shoulder.

Sesshomaru pushed her away roughly, almost knocking her over. Shiroihana let out a small cry of alarm and then one of grief. She began to cry visibly, "I'm sorry…"

"This Sesshomaru does not degrade himself by divulging Mother's secrets." He paused, his back still turned to her, and then asked, "Mother will join Chichiue and this Sesshomaru at Nejiro as soon as possible. She will help defend the Western Lands."

"Yes," Shiroihana snapped, torn between outrage and grief. "Yes, yes. I'll be there. Thank you, Sesshomaru. For your loyalty…please forgive me."

"This Sesshomaru cannot. There is only one course by which Mother can appease the situation. She must end her marriage to Chichiue or recommit to him. Until then this Sesshomaru will reject Lady Shiroihana in every way possible."

"You can't do that!" Shiroihana shrieked. "I brought you to life! I carried you inside my body, under my heart—_Sesshomaru…"_

Sesshomaru started walking away, aware of her sobbing behind him but feeling only numbness inside. Before he exited onto the terrace he shouted back at Shiroihana's bed chambers, calling out to his mother's cowardly lover.

"Greetings, Koshoshiro. Enjoy your stay in Mother's palace."

He left the sounds of Shiroihana's keening, heartbroken sobs behind him, banishing them from his mind.

* * *

Only a week later all three of the inuyoukai rulers of the Western Lands assembled together as one unit in the eastern province. The journey was quiet and uneventful. The group had fragmented into cliques, fractured by the past as well as by recent events. Inutaisho and Sesshomaru led the way as escorts, proud warriors with no equal. Shiroihana walked behind with the ever-faithful servant and messenger Daken.

Inutaisho did not miss the changed atmosphere between mother and son. When there was enough distance between where he and Sesshomaru walked and behind where Shiroihana and Daken were following, Inutaisho asked his son about it.

Sesshomaru stayed cold, unmoved by his father's concern. "She is displeased with me, Chichiue. She believes you corrupt me against her."

Inutaisho snorted, bitterly amused. "Feh. I don't have her energy to breathe out poison." He scowled unhappily, sighing as they trudged through the thick, heavy summer air. "Nothing would make me happier than if she put the mistakes of the past behind her and moved on."

"You wish to reconcile?" Sesshomaru asked blankly, outwardly revealing only mild interest.

"I would trade an arm," he muttered. "She will not have me. Stubborn bitch."

Sesshomaru let the silence claim the conversation as if it was idle, unimportant, even simply a whimsical flight of fancy. But it burned like the acid in his stomach, caustic enough to erode bones. As his father's armor clanked with each step the older inuyoukai lord took, Sesshomaru gave himself over to affection, to love, to loyalty for Inutaisho in a way he had never quite allowed before. If Shiroihana insisted on a war between herself and Inutaisho and demanded that Sesshomaru pick a side, Sesshomaru in that moment had chosen it.

The human-ruled province was not particularly large, but the reason for its name became apparent not long after they entered it. The province was named not for the sea that it bordered, as Inutaisho's Tengai had been, or for the residing clan that lived there as in the case of the Kosetsu. Instead it was colloquially called Takeyabu, meaning _bamboo grove._ And as the name implied there were many bamboo groves in the province.

Shiroihana was the brains of the operation, as she always had been traditionally. In spite of her recent blunder and the faltering relationship between mother and son, Shiroihana performed her role as negotiator beautifully. The male warriors, all human, were perturbed and uncomfortable with her, intimidated by her obvious intelligence and wit as well as by her power and especially her gender. Shiroihana left them all stupefied and helpless as she drew up their arguments and settled them, one by one, into an arrangement that suited everyone—but favored the unity of the Western Lands first and foremost.

The dispute amongst the humans involved two feuding cousin-families. First were the more powerful Setsuna clan, always identifiable by their stern, unflinching determination. The other clan, the Miyabita, was gentler and shied away from violence. The Miyabita were the ancestral keepers of the land, but the Setsuna clan was closely related by blood or adoption and they had the fierce will and determination to fight to replace the Miyabita.

Sesshomaru found the discussions and endless bickering of the humans entertaining and amusing. At the same time it was disconcerting how alike the inuyoukai clan and the human clans both behaved. The struggle was as much about pride as it was about resources. Shiroihana devised a solution that would allow the clans to coexist. The Miyabita would hold their rice farms and most of their inland holdings. Meanwhile the Setsuna would claim holdings more along the coast. They would live off the sea—a much more reliable mistress.

To test this arrangement and ensure peace in the meantime, Shiroihana also proposed a betrothal and the use of hostages. The humans were not pleased but they had little choice. Sesshomaru felt the men's eyes roving angrily over himself and Inutaisho, aware of their power, their majesty, and their infinite age compared to the rat-like, short-lived humans.

On the third day of the negotiations young human children were paraded out for Shiroihana to examine. Each clan maintained its proper heir, but Shiroihana had a full selection of the other children, some of them younger siblings of the true heirs—understudies in case their older brothers died. She chose the boy from the Setsuna. He was young but already tall for his age. Sesshomaru heard his name as being _Takemaru_, though Shiroihana never bothered calling the boy or the men around him anything but "You," or "Human," or "Boy."

The girl was chosen from the Miyabita clan. She was younger than Takemaru, her betrothed and fellow inuyoukai hostage, by a year or two. Sesshomaru wondered at his mother's choice in hostages—neither of them looked timid or docile. Even the girl held her chin upright and stared unabashedly at Shiroihana, as if daring the inuyoukai to pick her. When she was chosen, the girl wore a bewildered, troubled expression but she did not cry or cower as most of her other female peers had done.

One of the men broke proper conduct when he stepped forward, laying a hand over the little girl's shoulder. "Please great lady," he said, addressing Shiroihana. "This is my only surviving child. There was an outbreak of disease and famine—all of her younger brothers died, as did my wife…"

"She will be safer in my palace than anywhere you can keep her," Shiroihana told him. In spite of the human's outburst, Shiroihana's face was soft, tolerant. Sesshomaru could guess what she was thinking—a father who fought for his child, even if it was a lowly and useless girl—deserved respect, even if he was nothing but a weak human.

Shiroihana's next words were aimed at the girl directly. "What is your name, little child?"

The girl answered without hesitation. "Izayoi."

* * *

Endnote: So now Sess's loyalties have swung completely toward his father. Shiroihana told us this would happen. So she wasn't lying there at least! But will Sess stay loyal to his father as Izayoi enters the picture? And how the heck does Izayoi move from being a little hostage girl to the lover and mother of Inuyasha?

But here we can see how Sess finally came to accept his father as much or even more than his mother right now. And he learned to get over his sexual hangup a little. And Izayoi has finally arrived!

Alas I do not have enough of the next chapter done to put in much of a preview. I have been away busily finishing another novel. But I know this much: next chapter is Izayoi's first one to narrate!


	15. Izayoi: Journey To Kagetsu

A/N: Izayoi is going to add another new voice here. She will always be flowery and poetic. Compared to Sess's bland, formal, and sometimes bizarre wording she should be possibly a breath of fresh air. Also, as Inuyasha's mother, I don't think she was unremarkable in any way. Even in the brief scene we see of her in Movie 3 (Swords of an Honorable Ruler) she seems exemplary. Caring and compassionate, but determined and willful. I have watched it with English subbing and dubbing both to get as much as I can from that movie and based as much of this story and scenario on it as possible.

Things to remember with Izayoi from Inuyasha Movie 3:  
**Izayoi and Takemaru knew each other a long time before Inuyasha's birth.  
Izayoi is so tough that she gives birth after being skewered by Takemaru's spear.  
Izayoi survived long enough to go into labor with Inuyasha. How? Why didn't anyone kill her beforehand? (She would have had innumerable enemies. Sessmom, Sess, and all the xenophobic humans. How did she survive?)  
How did Inutaisho meet her? How did she come to be at the place she was in Movie 3, in labor, with humans who all expected Inutaisho's arrival, as if setting up a trap?  
Izayoi is always loving, compassionate that we see. She wants the humans to leave so they don't die, but could have other motivations too—like escaping the humans and saving her baby, staying with Inutaisho…etc.  
How does Takemaru know she loves Inutaisho? How does he know for sure that the baby's father is a demon?**

Disclaimer: I do not own them.

* * *

Last Chapter: Sesshomaru lost his virginity! All right, girly giggles aside, move on there was more to that chapter than sex. Sess connected with Inutaisho, but still doesn't _get_ him. The compassion bit throws him for a loop. IT and Kuenai hunted for three days to provide meat as payment to the brothel because IT felt compassion for the whores trapped inside. "Even whores need to eat." Sess has opened up to Chichiue and spent 50 years peacefully bouncing between Kagetsu and Nejiro, mother and father. Then Sessmom wanted to marry him off and make him sign a will that would affect Sesshomaru's future daughters. Sess refused. He also declined the idea of marriage. Then one summer a war broke out in Takeyabu province, between two human clans the Miyabita and the Setsuna. Sess went to get his mother so that all 3 could face the threat and discovered that she was having an affair with Koshoshiro of the Middle Lands. He told her he could not forgive her for it and that IT has been faithful to her while she has been nothing but trouble. Finally they went to Takeyabu and Shiroihana arranged a marriage and took the two betrothed humans as hostages. Their names were Takemaru of Setsuna and Izayoi of Miyabita.

* * *

A Song of Despair, by Pablo Neruda (Last few lines)

It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour  
which the night fastens to all the timetables.

The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore.  
Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate.

Deserted like the wharves at dawn.  
Only tremulous shadow twists in my hands.

Oh farther than everything. Oh farther than everything.

It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one!

* * *

Izayoi

(Practicing poetry)

Morning light shines  
the warrior and his sword  
wind sighs

White dogs run  
gulls call  
Summer has come

* * *

**Journey To Kagetsu**

Izayoi was eight years old when the inuyoukai leaders took her as a hostage and wrote her name down beside Takemaru Setsuna's on a document that was meant to bring peace between two warring clans. Izayoi was old enough to understand war and hostages already, but the experience was more traumatic than she could have prepared for.

A year previously it would have broken her. Izayoi would have crumbled, sobbing and wailing like an infant. But the previous year of her life had been a long, arduous stretch of loss and stress. First her mother died in childbirth in a futile attempt to give life to a baby boy that had died in the womb and started to decay. (A/N: This actually happened to my grandmother with a menopause baby which would have been her fourth child. Died in the womb and started to decay. Born full term.)

Then came the haze of summertime fevers. Her two younger brothers succumbed. One moment they were toddling, laughing and practicing with the other clan boys in the courtyards. The next Izayoi knew they were enshrined in her father's personal area of worship, set atop a wooden table, a bookshelf where he lit incense and left little bits of fruit as offerings to the gods. She joined her father in the ceremony, kneeling before the little shrine and watching somberly as her father placed the wooden tablets with her brothers' names on them. They joined her mother's name.

Her father hugged her afterwards. His voice was tight and his body quivered as if he was cold. "They are in paradise now," he whispered.

Izayoi wanted to be with them. The house was empty, haunted. Every small sound made Izayoi remember her mother's step on the stairs, over the hardwood floors. Her father was with her often, brushing her hair with his fingers, touching her face. They clung to one another. Already they had been unusually close for a father and a daughter. Their bond only strengthened after each loss and bout of suffering.

The famine was easy to endure for them both. Their bellies were already hollow, aching with grief. Hunger was petty, tolerable, even preferable to the endless mourning and the empty house around them, a constant reminder. When the fighting started in earnest between the clans, prompted by the shortcomings of the previous rice harvest, Izayoi's father shamefully refused to fight. Thoughts of war gave him a premonition of death. He told Izayoi he would not leave her an orphan.

There were aunts and uncles to stay with, but Izayoi's father refused to give her over to them. He would not shirk his responsibility as a father. He was devoted to his daughter, just as he had been to his wife and sons.

When the inuyoukai interceded to end the fighting between the clans, Izayoi stood before them without fear while the other Miyabita girls her age cowered and cried. Their mothers and sisters and fathers had muttered dark ghost stories around evening meals and late in the dark at bedtime. Izayoi had heard the stories too, but they could not scare her anymore. Not after enduring the loss of her mother and brothers.

It was her fearlessness that caught Shiroihana's attention. Izayoi was numb as she went through the brief binding ceremony, sipping a mouthful of sake and staring at Takemaru from the Setsuna clan—her future husband. He was older than her and struggling to hide his fear of the demons. His brown eyes flicked constantly toward Shiroihana, wet with terror but too proud to cry like a child.

With her father that night—the last one at home—comprehension dawned at last. She might never see her father again.

The demons could not make her cry, no matter how pale, tall, and frightening they were, like icicles hanging from the eaves in winter. But losing her father was more than she could take. She sobbed while she packed her meager possessions. When her father also brought out her mother's luxurious kimono, all stored for the last year and a half since her death, Izayoi hugged each robe to her and cried into it. Her father enveloped her and the kimono she clutched and shushed her, gently stroking her hair.

"You and I will see each other again, Izayoi. You bring all of the Miyabita honor and pride. You are bringing peace. There is no one as brave as you."

She spent her final night cradled in his strong arms, nestled against his chest, listening to his heart, his breathing. She had once been able to listen to her mother's body in the same way as a young child, but no more.

Then, all too soon, her new life began as a hostage away from home.

* * *

The journey was long and arduous for Izayoi. Out of inexperience she had worn heavy, elaborate robes to stay warm in the mountains and at night. But the heavy fabric swaddling her body became a burden that slowed her down and tripped her. She was as awkward as a cripple and bathed in sweat by the time the demons stopped for the night.

The only woman amongst the demons—named Lady Shiroihana—issued orders to the other three males. She sent the lowest ranking to do all the menial tasks. She called him _Daken_, which meant _mongrel._ At first Izayoi thought it was an unbearably rude insult, then she identified it as a nickname with its repeated use and the so-called "mongrel's" acceptance of the term.

She sat with Takemaru, shivering and humiliated, longing for a bath. Takemaru was the only human with them but Izayoi was reluctant to speak with him. She knew he was her betrothed, her fiancé, but he was also one of the Setsuna clan and she had heard her father speak of Takemaru's immediate family as violent and rowdy, untrustworthy and dishonorable. Izayoi was caught inside herself, longing for her father and her dead mother, even her dead brothers. It was painful to know that she was alone, the only Miyabita. Takemaru in his turn was the only Setsuna, but Izayoi did not consider him very much in that first night.

By the second evening Izayoi was exhausted and grungy. She was not used to such exercise and her young body, rounded and soft with baby fat, ached as muscles strained. She longed increasingly for a bath and fresh clothes that would suit the journey. Izayoi envied Takemaru, stoic and silent as stone, seemingly untouched by difficulty. He was wearing shortened pants and a sleeveless haori. It was an outfit Izayoi knew that boys used while fighting or playing in the summer. Takemaru did not sweat much in it while Izayoi silently roasted in her layers and layers of thick silk kimono.

By the third night Izayoi could no longer stand it. She watched the demons as they went about their usual camp preparation and pondered how to go about asking them when she could have a bath. Daken, the lowest ranking male, prepared a fire and smiled at the human children, friendly and pleasant. Takemaru always ignored him, but Izayoi tried to smile back and thanked him for making the fire. Later the same demon brought a rabbit for them and roasted it on a spit over the fire. Takemaru ate his portion without thanking the demon who had made it. In fact, Takemaru barely spared anyone a glance and when he did look at the demons it was with a glare.

Izayoi was not hungry. She had not been hungry for days. Not since Shiroihana had picked her to be the Miyabita's hostage and symbol for peace through marriage and alliance. She picked over the meat and ate a few bites, but then the queasiness in her stomach stilled all further attempts to eat.

She offered what was left to Takemaru rather than wasting it as she had the previous two nights. "Lord Takemaru?"

He blinked, as if coming out of a daze and turned his head to peer at her. His nose wrinkled for a moment and then he wiped at the lingering grease from the rabbit that still encircled his mouth. "What do you want?" he demanded.

Izayoi flinched at his tone, aware that the Setsuna clan despised the Miyabita, thinking them simpleminded and weak. But Takemaru was the only other human with her. Izayoi pressed on, holding her half of the spit with its cooked meat still skewered on it, offering it to Takemaru. "I can't eat anymore."

Takemaru gave her a doubtful, wary look that flicked between Izayoi's face and the cooked rabbit meat. "Are you sick?" he asked.

Izayoi shook her head gently. "I don't think so."

Greedily, Takemaru snatched the stick from her hands and began ripping the meat off. He ate it without looking at her and without offering any thanks.

Disgusted as well as frustrated by this failed attempt to connect with the only other human present—as well as her intended husband—Izayoi frowned, fighting tears. The sight of Takemaru stuffing his face gave her enough incentive to get away that Izayoi found the courage to approach the demons. She already knew who she had to speak with—the only woman amongst them.

Izayoi walked across the circle of orange light from the fire and into the shadows beyond it where she knew the demons lingered, talking amongst themselves. Daken, the lowest ranking of the demons, was the only one that actively stayed with the humans, serving them and guarding them. Now as Izayoi got up and approached the other demons, Daken appeared at her side, smiling awkwardly.

"Ah," he said, making more sound than actual words, "little girl—where are you going?"

"I want to speak with the demon lady," Izayoi said.

"Is that so?" Daken asked with a playful but patronizing lilt to his voice. "Perhaps you had better ask me first."

Izayoi had never been afraid of Daken, but she could see the potential he had to be dangerous, even deadly. His hands had long, thick fingers that ended with pointy, sharp claws. His teeth did not appear especially sharp, but Izayoi could see that he had powerful teeth, bigger than any human man's, and the top and bottom canines were elongated. She realized that he was _old._ Old enough that his teeth had been ground down, reducing the sharpness.

She had seen old dogs around her home with teeth like that. They had gray muzzles and sat around gnawing on bones. If someone tried to take the bone away the dog was sure to lash out and bite.

Izayoi decided that she would play by the demons' rules. If she had to speak to Daken first, then so be it.

"I want to have a bath," she admitted, fighting to sound brave rather than embarrassed. "And my clothes aren't right."

Daken tilted his head at her request, amused and confused at once. "You certainly smell like you could use one." He smirked and then motioned for her to follow him with one clawed hand. "Come with me. I'll talk to Queen Shiroihana for you."

Izayoi obediently followed Daken. Though she was curious about the dog demons, she knew that they were royalty, as mystical and distant as the Emperor himself. It would be unseemly to look at them—but they weren't humans and didn't appear to follow human social rules. A woman ruled them with intelligence while the males, who were clearly powerful, remained aloof and mostly silent. Izayoi had heard the woman's voice and Daken's often, but the other two were rarer tones, one soft and young, gentle like a stream in Izayoi's ears. The other was deeper, hollowed out as if it emerged from a cavern.

They were shadows, unclear and intimidating. Izayoi tried to be demure, to conceal her interest and fear. She longed to be as inconspicuous as a rock. _Please, don't let me offend them,_ she prayed, thinking the words at the souls of her loved ones, mother and brothers in paradise.

"Queen Shiroihana," Daken said, dropping into a very low bow to humble himself.

"What is it?" she asked blandly. The demon woman had the deepest voice that Izayoi had ever heard in a young or adult woman. Sometimes old women possessed low voices like a man's, but mostly human women all spoke in a high, piping pitch. The demon woman spoke with the authority of a man, as well as a similar pitch.

"The girl is in need of a bath."

There was a pause and then Shiroihana snorted. "So she is."

Izayoi thought that this was a rejection and lifted her head to peer at the demon woman, mouth opening to plead her case. She stayed silent when her eyes locked onto Shiroihana. The demon woman had been seated on a small rocky ridge above them, beneath several pine trees but had risen to her feet. In an elegant, gravity-defying moment Shiroihana had landed nearby after floating like a dandelion seed on a breeze. Her hair was so white that it almost glowed blue in the nighttime dark. Around her shoulders a puffy white fur stood out, making Izayoi think of sleeping in her futon back home.

Izayoi lowered her eyes, blinking with an abrupt surge of tears at the reminder of what she had lost.

"There is a lake nearby," Shiroihana said. "Take her and let her bathe, Daken."

"Great Lady," Daken said, protesting her decision with flowery formality. "I believe it would not be proper for me to do such a thing."

Shiroihana laughed. "Are you afraid to see this little monkey-sprite naked? Daken—I thought you would have more control over your carnal desire at your age!"

Some of the terms that Shiroihana had used were foreign—_carnal desire_—but Izayoi sensed strangeness in the interaction. Daken's body language had changed with what she suspected was awkwardness. At any rate, Izayoi understood clearly that she was not supposed to be naked around adult men other than her father who had bathed her or shared a bath with her many times. She had played with scant clothing on with other children her age before, and occasionally she had seen boys running around naked. Nakedness was not a taboo amongst prepubescent children—but with a demon watching? Izayoi shivered and tried to breathe normally, to hide her distress from the demons.

"Great Lady, it is simply unseemly. The child would be more comfortable with a female guardian."

Shiroihana stepped forward, her feet scratching and grating on pine needles and dirt. Izayoi saw her pale-skinned hand dart out a microsecond before she felt the demon woman's grip on her chin, forcing her face to point upward. Girl and inuyoukai woman stared at each other, silently assessing. It was too dark for Izayoi to make out Shiroihana's expression completely, but she thought she saw a disturbing amusement there. Perhaps it was a look that fire would have worn on its face while gleefully burning down someone's house—if fire had a face.

"You were such a brave thing with your own kind," Shiroihana said with mock disappointment. "Now you smell like a rotting rat and have about the same amount of sense."

Izayoi frowned, holding back her tears even as she fought to hide any reaction. Shiroihana's hold on her chin was strong enough that Izayoi could not open her mouth enough to speak.

"Those stupid humans dressed you like a princess and now you're going to ruin all your fine clothing!" Shiroihana knelt, drawing closer to Izayoi and smiling so that her sharp, glimmering teeth showed. "Foolish little imp—why should I bother escorting you to the lake and stand about while you shiver and scrub your filthy, smelly little body? Hmm? We have a long while to go yet and you're going to need a bath every night in those clothes. What ever do you think we should do about this problem?"

"She could borrow the boy's clothes," Daken suggested.

Shiroihana sighed and at last released Izayoi's mouth. She stood upright and threw Daken a look of irritation. "I want the girl to answer. I picked her because I thought she wasn't witless like all the rest of the human vermin. If she's going to disappoint me this quickly I just don't see any point in protecting her at all."

"Shiroihana!" a deep voice interrupted, bellowing.

Izayoi winced at it, trembling. She could not stop herself from gazing at it as a massive form appeared, clanking and rattling in armor. Izayoi dropped into a clumsy bow, recognizing the Lord of the Western Lands, the Dog General Inutaisho. Her parents and others in the community had whispered stories about the panther war, which some of their ancestors had been part of, and Inutaisho was responsible for winning it and preventing death and destruction from spreading into the interior of the Japanese islands.

It was such a conditioned response in Izayoi that she could not resist it. She bowed to male authority where she had not done the same to Shiroihana.

"Get up!" Shiroihana yelled, sounding truly angry for the first time.

Something pushed, halfway striking Izayoi's shoulder and neck. She cried out, crawling out of reach, crying and whimpering with fresh terror.

"Control yourself, Shiroihana!" the great Dog General ordered, growling. "Do you want to kill peace between those two clans before it has lasted even a week?"

"Oh?" Shiroihana snarled. "As opposed to the great Lord Inutaisho who would just have killed them rather than go to the trouble of negotiating? Hmm?"

"If _you_ will not care for our hostages and keep peace in the Western Lands, _I will._" Heavy, leaden footsteps thumped over the ground, coming toward Izayoi.

She cowered, curling into herself and whimpering. She did not expect the powerful dog demon to be gentle, but the gruff touch or grab never came. Instead he spoke to her with a purring voice, a soothing salve after the rough exchange of seconds before. "What's your name, little girl?"

Izayoi answered without looking at him or uncurling from her fetal ball. "Miyabita Izayoi."

"Lady Miyabita," he said above her, using an honorific title and softening his voice even more. "You have nothing to fear from me. Come, stand up, I'll see to it that you bathe and get appropriate clothing."

The bath seemed incredibly distant to Izayoi now. She peeked at Inutaisho but tried to hide the motion in case it offended the great lord. "I—I don't—no bath," she stammered. "I'm sorry."

"Smart girl," Shiroihana said with a sneering tone. "He will only rape you and tear you limb from limb the moment he sees your bared flesh."

Inutaisho's armor clanked at the Queen's words, but otherwise he did not respond to her—but from the shadows the softer, youthful voice of the fourth dog demon rose up and refuted Shiroihana. "Mother," he said, "you are behaving unbearably."

"Of course, Sesshomaru," Shiroihana said. "Forgive me, Lord Inutaisho."

All of the words, and especially the apology, were untrue. Shiroihana spoke them with malice.

Inutaisho did not dignify her with a response. He spoke to Izayoi. "I cannot carry you, child. You must be strong. You must be brave."

Izayoi recalled her father's words: _There is no one as brave as you._

She swallowed her uncertainty and stood upright. She was shaking and crying, too frightened to look directly at Inutaisho, Daken, or Shiroihana. "I can be brave," she murmured under her breath. She had not thought she said it loud enough for anyone else to hear, but Inutaisho reacted by chuckling.

Inutaisho led her back into the circle of flickering orange firelight where Takemaru was lying on the ground, glaring up at them both. He watched Izayoi with trepidation, wide-eyed and uncomprehending.

"Boy," Inutaisho said, addressing Takemaru. "The Lady of the Miyabita requires proper clothing for the journey. Give her some of yours."

Takemaru scrambled almost in a panic, digging through the trunk that his family had packed for him. He dug out gray-green fighting pants that would leave the calf muscles bare and exposed. Then he tossed out a yellow-white haori undershirt. Inutaisho took the garments and then led Izayoi away from the fire. Takemaru's gaze followed them and several times Izayoi twisted at the neck and waist, staring back at her future husband, wondering what was on his mind.

* * *

The walk to the lake took a few minutes but the water was clear and clean—but also cold. Izayoi touched the small surf on the beach and dreaded the upcoming bath. She had been privileged enough to have hot or warm baths most of her life at home.

Inutaisho lingered some twenty feet distant, standing and staring out at the water as it glimmered under the pale moonlight. He was holding Takemaru's donated clothing cradled in his arms.

Izayoi was frozen at the water's edge, intimidated by the coldness of the water and by Inutaisho's presence. She clambered up from the sand of the beach and onto the pebbles scattered beyond to where Inutaisho was calmly, patiently waiting. She dropped onto her hands and knees and touched her face to the smooth, cool beach stones in front of Inutaisho's booted feet.

"Please—I can't do it."

"Why not?" Inutaisho asked. "No harm will come to you."

"My father would be very angry if he were here," Izayoi said, trying to express herself without saying directly that it was wrong of Inutaisho to see her naked.

"Well," Inutaisho said and Izayoi could hear him smiling. "We can't allow that, can we?" He knelt, the armor clanking and the rocks cracking and shifting as his weight changed. "Sit up," he said and when she did, Inutaisho extended his arms out to her, offering Takemaru's clothing. "Dress in these and call for me when you are finished."

Izayoi blinked with surprise as she accepted the clothing and tried to bow again as she thanked him. She crept back to the water and looked back anxiously for any sign of the dog demon. There wasn't any. The beach was empty, silent around her. Izayoi set Takemaru's clothes aside and stripped rapidly, determined to be done with the event. She rushed in, splashing, and yelped as the water enveloped her. Her teeth chattered and her hair flew free about her shoulders and her back. Izayoi scrubbed viciously at her scalp, then at her underarms and over the rest of her body.

Periodically she scanned the beach and the shore, unconvinced that she wasn't being watched, but also undisturbed and unafraid of any attack by Inutaisho. His kindness was the most that any of the demons—or Takemaru for that matter—had displayed to her yet. She was grateful even while hideously embarrassed.

She would not forget his kindness.

After she was clean, Izayoi emerged shuddering and teeth-chattering in the cold. She huddled on the beach for a while, trying to shake herself of excess water and squeeze it from her long black hair, but eventually she had to dress. Takemaru's clothes were clean but they left her feeling a bit chilly. She would need them when they were traveling again under the continual ups and downs of the local geography and the blaze of the sun.

She held her arms tucked against her body as she stared at the wide expanse of the soundless shore and forest, chewing her lip and wondering how exactly she would call Inutaisho. Finally she closed her eyes and just shouted, "I'm done! I'm done!"

This worked well enough and only a few moments later Inutaisho's tall, broad shape emerged from the darkness. She clambered over the stony beach to reach him, stumbling a few times, and then peered up at him, smiling tentatively. She was determined to thank him but the words were clumsy in her mouth.

"Th—thank you, great lord."

Inutaisho smiled at her, showing his teeth. They were sharp and white, just as Shiroihana's had been. The sight perturbed Izayoi but she forgot it when Inutaisho reached out and gently nudged her ahead of him, toward the dark forest. "Come now, it's time to go back. You need to sleep."

"Thank you," she said again, over her shoulder. His hand was enormous on her back, but the spot was deliciously warm, inviting.

"You're cold," Inutaisho observed, feeling her shivering.

"Y—ye—yes," she admitted. The fire was on her mind. It would warm her well enough, though it was not as easy to cuddle as her mother or father, even her little brothers had been.

"Wait," Inutaisho told her.

Izayoi hesitated, watching the demon as she convulsed with shivering fits. Her wet hair was dripping down her back. It was too dark for her to see clearly what he was doing, but in a moment she heard fabric billowing and something covered her, balmy and welcoming as an embrace. It had a strange scent, foreign but pleasant. Izayoi fumbled with it, unable to see.

"Wh—what?"

"This should help you," Inutaisho said. "It's a special haori. It's made of Fire Rat fur. You can wear it until we reach the camp."

"Thank you," Izayoi repeated. She clutched the robe closer to her, wondering at what it was—she had never heard of a _fire rat_ before. It was not Inutaisho's outer, visible haori, but rather something he had apparently kept tucked under his outer clothing, nestled against his skin. The idea that it had been so close to him calmed her, comforted her with the same tenderness and sense of safety that she had associated with her father. Her shivering had stopped by the time they reached the fire.

In the firelight, Izayoi realized that the robe was a bright, brilliant red. She grinned when she gave it back to Inutaisho, eager to praise its beauty. "It's as red as a sunset!"

Inutaisho's lips curled in a small, friendly smile. "That is an unusual description, Lady Miyabita."

"Father," someone called from the dark beyond the firelight. Izayoi and Inutaisho both turned to look at it. Izayoi could not see its source, but she did make out two specks of light in the dark. _Eyes._ She had seen dogs' eyes reflect light like that before at home. It made her think of ghosts.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Lady Miyabita," Inutaisho said, friendly but also distractedly. He offered one last small smile and then moved to join the elegant, smooth voice from the shadows.

Izayoi watched him leave and admitted the red haori still clutched in his fist. She was so absorbed by the scene that she did not hear or sense Takemaru's approach until pain jolted her out of her passive, tranquil reverie.

Takemaru had grabbed her ear and was wrenching it, pinching and pulling. "What's wrong with you?" he demanded. "Are you under some spell or just plain stupid?"

"Let go!" Izayoi cried. "Please! Let go!"

Takemaru released her ear but shoved her with both hands, sending the small, fragile girl sprawling in the sand beside the fire. She was too startled to cry and laid still, shocked by the attack, breathing hard.

"I will never fall under their spell!" Takemaru yelled. "I'm strong! I will never give in! I'm going home someday and when I do I'll rule both clans!"

"What is all this about?" came a familiar voice to both Takemaru and Izayoi. It was Daken, smirking without true mirth as he looked between them.

Takemaru shrank immediately, going back to his sleeping spot without answering.

"Do you need help, girl?" Daken asked.

Izayoi stood back up and stared at the dog demon. She shook her head. "No, I'm fine."

Something like relief spread over Daken's face. "Good. Time to bed down for the night, humans. Tomorrow we set out early."

* * *

The first time that Izayoi saw Kagetsu palace, she thought it was part of the mountain itself. The land was enchanted, eerie. It made her feel queasy. She followed the inuyoukai as they ascended the heavily forested path up the side of a steep mountain. They were ethereal, without any need to slow or to even speed up their breathing. Izayoi and Takemaru puffed with exertion and wiped at their brows as sweat coalesced and dripped over their young skin.

The mountainside was covered by thickly built trees and the canopy overhead was dense. The forest was dark. Izayoi caught glimpses of deer darting at the edges of her vision, she sensed the sacredness and ancient nature of the forest. The Miyabita had legends of the people who inhabited the Kosetsu, ruled by the beings of the Kagetsu palace on the mountainside. They valued women and were ruled by queens.

Izayoi had never believed it until now.

The forest was so dark and thick that mist hovered between some of the trees, though it seemed to vanish whenever the humans drew close. The inuyoukai could pass through it without disturbing it, but it fled from humans like a shy ghost.

Takemaru bumped into her during their walk. His body radiated heat and sweat. Izayoi shied away from him but Takemaru's eyes were wide, showing the whites in a panic. He bared his teeth as he whispered to her. "This place is infected with demons."

Izayoi didn't answer. Takemaru's observation was obvious to her. They were following four demons!

Takemaru picked out her puzzlement and sneered with frustration. "Can't you see the ghosts? Can't you feel them? This place is evil." He dropped his voice lower, hissing. "Don't let them touch you or your soul will be trapped in this world as a ghost, just like them."

Izayoi tucked her hands close to her side and watched the white mists warily, but she was as curious as she was afraid.

When they broke out of the forest into a rocky clearing that appeared to Izayoi to stretch into Heaven itself, the mists were everywhere. The inuyoukai had slowed their pace at last and were walking toward a wide, long row of stairs. Izayoi and Takemaru reluctantly moved after them.

Izayoi worried about the mists at first, but they parted for her, splitting and vanishing as she approached. The inuyoukai woman, leading the way, vanished out of Izayoi's view. Soon Izayoi saw figures roaming the mountain on either side of the long stair. Greenish lights hovered over and around them. For the first time, Izayoi felt a real thrill of sickening fear. She knew in her gut that these were the real ghosts. When she saw one up close she realized he was armed and wearing armor. There was no clear face, the armor seemed to be hollow. Even so, Izayoi could feel all of the ghost guards watching her and she felt she could sense their amusement and disdain.

Seeking reassurance, Izayoi grabbed Takemaru's hand. The boy looked at her with a glare but did not shake off her grip. They walked together tightly, their hips brushing and their clothing whispering.

When they were nearly at the top, the mists cleared enough for Izayoi to look up and see the wide, breathtaking wings of the palace's oriental roof curving away. The inuyoukai had all gone inside the open sliding door except for Daken who was waiting like a servant to usher them in and close the door behind.

Takemaru and Izayoi moved with cautious, terrified slowness that was further hindered by their awe. They gaped with their mouths open as they stepped into the large, white audience room with its fresh smelling matting and the blizzard scene on its screen walls. Each snowflake was outlined in brilliant, glimmering silver. The three ruling inuyoukai had already settled on the sitting platform and now regarded their human hostages with distant, calm reserve.

Izayoi noted absently through her awe at the beauty of the room that Shiroihana, the female demon, sat at the head of the group. The kind male, Inutaisho, was seated slightly behind her, indicating a lesser position. The other male, so much like Shiroihana, but also resembling Inutaisho, was as slender as a willow branch, young, pristine and beautiful.

Well, they were all beautiful. Izayoi had never known a human that could compare with such grandness. She dropped to the floor when she was still twenty feet from their platform. Takemaru stayed standing but Izayoi could sense his shaking.

"Boy," Shiroihana said with a wintery chill to her words. "You would do well to bow like the girl."

"Bow," Inutaisho growled.

Takemaru dropped clumsily to the floor. Izayoi heard his breath puffing.

"Now then," Shiroihana said, purring. "Welcome to Kagetsu palace. For the next several years until your marriage this will be your home. I will see to it that you are well cared for. As long as you are obedient and well behaved we shall have no trouble with one another. Do you understand, humans?"

Izayoi sat up but kept her eyes glued submissively to the floor. "Yes ma'am!"

Takemaru also sat up but he did not answer aloud. He might have nodded but Izayoi didn't see it.

"Very well," Shiroihana said. She shifted a little and spoke over her shoulder to Inutaisho. "Your presence in the Kagetsu is no longer required. Take Sesshomaru and leave."

Inutaisho made a small sound, a mix between gasp and snort. "Nonsense."

"You are not needed here," Shiroihana snapped. "Surely you have more important things to do than sit about here watching these pathetic humans?"

"You force me to be blunt," Inutaisho said gutturally. "Queen Shiroihana—I don't trust you to care properly for them."

"Then you can take them to Nejiro," Shiroihana growled. "I will not tolerate your eavesdropping, your infuriating presence—"

"Mother," the youngest inuyoukai spoke, serene and impassive. "Chichiue is correct. The current arrangement was your idea. The human hostages are staying in Kagetsu and so is Father or myself."

The bickering, the underlying fury and bitterness, was alarming. Izayoi wondered and trembled at the thick intrigue she sensed, the secrets and darkness of these long-lived, ethereal beasts. Only Inutaisho seemed to be aware that the humans were still in the room and could hear the argument, sense the disunion of their effective captors.

Daken escorted them to their rooms and the bathhouse. He assigned a retinue of bizarre servants to both Takemaru and Izayoi. Geckos followed Takemaru in a line, licking at their eyeballs to clean them with their sticky feet popping over the wooden floors. Izayoi had a constant guard of monkeys that chattered in a language she could not understand.

Everywhere around her, Izayoi found luxury. After the hardship of the journey there was a hot, fragrant bath and a secure, warm bed in an enormous, oversized room. Though she missed her father and felt incredibly lonely, the monkeys amused Izayoi and her surroundings were so new, beautiful, and thrilling, that Izayoi was soon smiling and laughing more than anyone else in all of Kagetsu palace.

Takemaru was in the room next to Izayoi's and often she heard him sobbing or yelping in his sleep. He was troubled, afraid and alarmed at everything around him. He did not know how to react or cope with it. Without the influence of his father and male relatives, especially his older brothers, Takemaru was weak and lost. Izayoi pitied him and often lingered with the monkeys outside his room, singing childish ditties or racing the monkeys who gladly played with her. Takemaru was afraid of the geckos that were meant to serve him, seeing them as enchanted or evil. Izayoi could not see the monkeys that way—they were too humanlike.

For nearly a week Izayoi had small meals brought to her and roamed the palace without supervision. She caught only tiny glimpses of the inuyoukai. She would sense a foreign presence or smell bizarre, sharp perfume and turn to see a shadow retreating down the other end of the hall. Once, in the open air terrace between the east and west wing, Izayoi encountered the youngest dog demon, the slender and alluring Sesshomaru.

She vaulted onto the thick wooden railings with their intricate carvings and straddled them like a boy riding a horse. She was forty feet away, staring at Sesshomaru's back through the white mists. She suspected that he knew she was there but Izayoi could not stop curiosity from bubbling up inside her. She had never spoken directly to any of the inuyoukai except Daken and Inutaisho, and she had never interacted with Sesshomaru at all. He was the last unknown to her in this palace.

Izayoi gripped the wood railing with her hands and thighs and then shouted toward the enigmatic young dog demon through the thick, moist air. "Sir! Sir!"

As Sesshomaru turned and cocked his head slightly, glancing at her over his shoulder, Izayoi leaned out over the open whiteness, into the precipice below. She could not see the bottom and had no intention of loosening her grip and falling, but she had lost most of her fear of the inuyoukai and had little to do with herself but learn more about them.

Izayoi lifted her arms off the railing for a second and let out a little piping, faked scream. "I'm going to fall!"

Sesshomaru crossed the forty feet between himself and the little human girl in an eye blink. He snatched Izayoi by arms awkwardly and easily ripped her free of the railing. Izayoi squealed with alarm and flailed, but then she was safe on the walkway. When she looked up, the tall, graceful, white-haired dog demon was staring down at her with a cold but disapproving look.

"Fool," he said. "Go inside."

Izayoi took a step back from him but did not flee. She hesitated and then risked talking to him again. "I'm bored."

"Practice your calligraphy," Sesshomaru told her with a tremor of irritation.

"You mean writing? I only know a few words." She listed them off on her fingers. "Rice, eat, sleep, fish, house, mother and father, brother and sister…"

"You have no tutor?" Sesshomaru asked, for the first time paying true attention to her.

Izayoi scowled. "What's a tutor?"

Sesshomaru left her alone on the terrace with its white, misty air, dense with moisture. Izayoi was baffled, what had she said?

* * *

The following day, Izayoi's routine changed drastically. Just after sunrise the monkeys filtered into her room and chattered, hauling her out of bed. Izayoi moaned and cried, confused at the early wakeup. The monkeys brought out a new robe, simple and lightweight. While izayoi tried to doze off sitting upright, the monkeys combed out her hair and tied it back clumsily. When the monkeys opened the door and led Izayoi out into the hallway, Takemaru and his geckos were already there.

Takemaru's eyes were red and puffy, his face was creased unpleasantly.

"Good morning," Izayoi said.

"They're taking us to be eaten," Takemaru muttered.

"Dogs don't eat people," Izayoi told him confidently, without a trace of fear.

The geckos and monkeys brought Takemaru and Izayoi to the end of the hall where a small room stood with its sliding door open. A small meal as well as tea had been prepared and set out. Takemaru ate without any manners, slurping and eating with his fingers. Izayoi watched him with amusement while she ate her own food with all the manners her mother and father had ingrained in her from a young age.

Just as Izayoi was finishing her last bit of rice, Takemaru stiffened and stared over her shoulder at the door. Izayoi realized that there was someone standing in the doorway, waiting on them. She set her bowl down and twisted to look.

It was Inutaisho, standing calmly and patiently. He was different than both Shiroihana and Sesshomaru, lacking the same reserve and liquid, catlike grace. He was majestic in a different, indefinable way. His body was bulkier in build, overwhelmingly powerful.

Izayoi maneuvered on her hands and knees to face him, then pressed her nose and forehead to the floor. "Lord Inutaisho!"

"Lady Miyabita," Inutaisho said and hearing him speak filled Izayoi with unexplainable joy. She lifted her head and peered up at him, grinning. She had not forgotten his kindness and had longed to run into him specifically. In the absence of her father, this demon was worthy of her devotion and trust.

"I've come to teach you both," Inutaisho told them.

"You?" Takemaru croaked. It was disrespectful of him but Inutaisho apparently ignored the lack of title.

"I've been informed that you receive no lessons, is that right?" he asked. His eyebrows lifted and he met Izayoi's eye, seeking confirmation.

"No lessons, sir," Izayoi answered.

"Very well," Inutaisho said, giving a tiny nod. "Follow me, then. I will become your instructor for the next few weeks until a proper one is secured."

Izayoi readily accepted Inutaisho's teaching while Takemaru resisted. For the next few weeks Inutaisho, the great and mighty, reverent Lord of the Western Lands, sat in a small room guiding the tiny hands of his human pupils as they moved their brushes over the fine rice paper of the Kagetsu palace. And while he smiled encouragingly at Izayoi and with saintly patience at Takemaru, Izayoi could not stop herself from seeing a hint of darkness in the powerful lord. The smidgen of emotion intrigued Izayoi and humanized Inutaisho more and more within her mind. She had seen it before on the face of her father, the heavy sadness of something like loss.

_I will please him,_ she thought. While she was a hostage amidst the inuyoukai, Izayoi decided she would do anything she could to ingratiate herself to the magnificent, fatherly Lord Inutaisho.

* * *

Endnote: I apologize for the long time it took for this chapter. It's been a busy past few weeks! I had to complete my internship and my class and then recently I interviewed for a job with a lumber mill (wow, go figure.) and I also finished my latest novel. Woot! Now I have to solicit publishers with it. And, drum roll please? My fiance graduated! He's done! And he had a job offer in the area. Everything then is going well. As good as we could have hoped for.

Anyway, in this chapter we got to see very early on the beginning of a bond between Izayoi and Inutaisho. Exciting! Also, did you catch that fire rat robe? Hehe.

Next time:

Expect some trouble for the little hostages.

And Shiroihana's pure ignorance and lack of interest in humans.


	16. Izayoi: Eavesdropping

A/N: In this instance the poem has a double sort of joke. This story is all about "dogs." But most of these dogs do talk, and some that possibly should talk, don't say what needs to be said. Like Sesshomaru…should he tell his father about his mother's infidelity? Or should he keep silent as he has been? And the other half of the joke in the poem here is that the dog demons think of the humans as little more than vermin and naturally one doesn't hide secrets from speechless, stupid vermin…

But of course, humans are not vermin. And they are not speechless.

Disclaimer: I do not own the original idea.

* * *

Last Chapter: Izayoi journeyed to Kagetsu palace and initially bonded with Inutaisho, thinking of him as a father figure when he escorted her to bathe when no one else would. He shared the Fire Rat Robe with her briefly. Takemaru of the Setsuna clan has been reluctant to bond with anyone, even Izayoi. He is cowed by the inuyoukai and his fear of their supernatural nature. Izayoi meanwhile is curious and far braver. She meets with Sesshomaru, pretending to fall from a railing on an open air terrace, but Sess keeps her from falling, though he is not amused. He finds out that she has no tutor and shortly after that Inutaisho appears during Izayoi and Takemaru's breakfast and becomes their tutor. When the chapter began Izayoi was 8, going on 9 and she was eager to please Inutaisho above everyone else for his first kindness and patience with her during the journey.

* * *

"Canine Conversation" (last stanza) William Robert Service.

If dogs could speak, how dangerous  
It would be for a lot of us!  
At what they see and what they hear  
They wink an eye and wag an ear.  
How fortunate for old and young  
The darlings have a silent tongue!  
We love them, but it's just as well  
For all of us that - dogs can't tell.

* * *

Izayoi

(Letter to Takemaru at Nejiro Castle from Kagetsu Palace)

Lord Takemaru,

I miss you more than the earth would miss the sky if they could be parted. The cloud palace is a lonely place, like a distant mountaintop. I am like a single grain of rice spilled from the bowl.

Lady Shiroihana is unhappy that I have been sad without your presence. She is mercilessly cruel. I suppose that I am lucky in one thing. At least she calls me by name. I am maid as well as hostage to her. It is my greatest wish that you are happier away from her. One day I hope to join you. Do you think it unwise to ask Lord Sesshomaru or Lord Daken? Lord Daken is friendly and always smiling. Lord Sesshomaru is young and might pity me and escort me to Nejiro.

Please, Lord Takemaru, ask Lord Inutaisho to take me from Kagetsu palace too!

Miyabita Izayoi

* * *

**Eavesdropping**

Time began to pass. For months Inutaisho acted as their instructor. Izayoi accepted every word that spilled from his lips and learned readily under his tutelage. Takemaru did so only begrudgingly, but his fear gradually faded away, burned off like morning mists.

Izayoi became confident enough with calligraphy that she started writing to her father. She let Inutaisho proofread them and grinned when he approved of each and told her that he would send them. She received answers back about a month after each letter and read them with Inutaisho's help at first, but as time went on she read her father's calligraphy easier and easier—but she didn't stop seeking Inutaisho out, asking him to read it to her or help her with one character or another.

It wasn't long before Inutaisho caught onto her ploy. She asked about the same characters too often. Unlike Shiroihana and Sesshomaru—thought Izayoi had no way of knowing this—Inutaisho understood the strong level of human intelligence. When he perceived an unnatural delay in Izayoi he swiftly perceived the truth in what she was doing.

"You already know this," he told her, pointing his clawed finger at the scrawled character. "You have read it and written it before."

Izayoi blinked with surprise then shook her head. "No, I don't know that one. I keep forgetting."

Inutaisho did not growl at her, but it was a near thing. "Do not lie to me."

Izayoi fell to the floor so fast that her small body sent a puff of air at Inutaisho. She was bowing and pleading for his forgiveness. He sighed, told her to sit up. When she did she met his eye keenly, intelligently. Inutaisho had known from the first time he learned her name that she was smart, but her strange behavior baffled him. He pushed the letter at her and asked gravely, "Why are you pretending to be a fool? You're not. You read and write better than the boy."

"Takemaru is stubborn," Izayoi said. "Lord Inutaisho is very kind to him anyway."

"You didn't answer my question," Inutaisho reminded her. "Why are you coming to me with these letters when you already know how to—" But he had already answered his own question. Inutaisho was silent, staring down at the girl in bewilderment. If it was not the letters that brought her to him then there could only be one answer. Izayoi used the letters as an excuse to see _him._

"I'm sorry, Lord Inutaisho, sir!" Izayoi watched him nervously, her eyes moist and round.

"It's fine," Inutaisho said, dismissively. "Just don't do it again."

"No! Never again, sir!"

A few days later Inutaisho at last decided to force the grouchy Kuenai to tutor the human children. Izayoi's unnatural desire to bond with him, to be in his presence, no longer escaped his awareness. He caught the way her gaze shone with devotion, the way her teeth gleamed in her frequent grins.

It had happened to him before with human servants. It was both disturbing and amusing, a little like a prey animal that loses its fear of a predator. The natural order of things was that humans should fear the mononoke, the youkai of all types. But Inutaisho had seen it happen before with other demons on the mainland where interspecies relations were a little more acceptable than in Japan where xenophobia was as strong as ocean currents and earthquakes. And he had not been immune to it himself. Human women that were interested were usually more receptive than females of the inuyoukai. With the inuyoukai sex was more often related to breeding. It went without saying that the most tender and carnal moments went on during the females' period of fertility. But human women had no boundaries, no reservations other than the fragility of their bodies. And that in itself was highly erotic—he knew from experience.

But Izayoi was a girl, a child of only nine. She saw Inutaisho as a father, a protector. Inutaisho would never have opposed or tried to change her view—but it distracted the girl from her _real_ goal. And that was to bond with Takemaru, her betrothed husband, and to learn as much as she could.

Inutaisho would have to leave to make sure that happened.

* * *

An old dog demon took over the lessons, much to Izayoi's dismay and disappointment. He was grouchy and constantly short with his human pupils. Izayoi could not understand his short temper or what she and Takemaru had done to permanently provoke it. She learned early that to cry in front of Kuenai was to invoke his irritation and rage rather than pity, and to fail to grasp a lesson would bring on a slew of venomous insults aimed both personally and at humans as a whole.

Takemaru had managed to learn with Inutaisho as a teacher, but now his time was spent scowling darkly, glaring as he gazed at his paper, his brush, or the inkwell. Though Izayoi had spent almost no quality time with Takemaru, she pitied him as he became the butt of Kuenai's cruel jokes and constantly seemed to fail. Each failure only reaffirmed Kuenai's belief that humans were "vermin" and that they had the equivalent brains to match that definition. They could only think about fighting, breeding, eating, and sleeping. Their lives were too short for anything else.

Izayoi was bright and likely surprised Kuenai, but he did not praise her, only admitted what she did was passable or simply correct. Izayoi only made Takemaru look worse in the classroom.

Izayoi tried to run across the other dog demons, tried to find Inutaisho. She knew he would sleep in the same wing as Shiroihana—the demon woman still terrified Izayoi—and was brave enough to venture there once a day, searching, but it was weeks before she finally ran across anyone there. On that day after her lessons she found a door standing open and heard talking from inside. Izayoi was not naturally suspicious, but curiosity kept her silent, holding her breath and straining her ears when she knelt beside the thin screen walls of the room.

The demon woman Shiroihana was speaking in a thin, airy voice that Izayoi knew was condescending, arrogant. "That is the most ridiculous thing I have heard in months, Sesshomaru."

The answer from the soft, young voice of her son came swiftly on the heels of hers. "Then you did not send Chichiue away?"

"No," Shiroihana said, a little tighter now. "He chose to leave of his own volition." She scoffed and Izayoi heard a tinkling sound, metallic. "I expect that your father is out looking for an appropriate brothel."

_Brothel_ was an unknown word for Izayoi, but Sesshomaru seemed to act as if it were an insult. "Do not speak in that manner of Chichiue," Sesshomaru said. "He has more honor than you do."

"How dare you!" Shiroihana hissed. "I've told you what you wanted, now get out. You are _his_ son—in spite of all that I have done for you!"

Feet thumped and Izayoi tensed, ready to run even as she jerked her head left and right, seeking a hiding place. The other doors to the rooms lining the hall were closed. Izayoi could open one but there was no time!

The footsteps did not exit the open doorway, they stopped short as Shiroihana shouted again, demanding. "Do you see yourself in the mirror, Sesshomaru? Do you see the mark of the Kosetsu?"

Sesshomaru did not answer. Silence spilled out of their room and enveloped the hallway. Izayoi could hear the pulse of her heartbeat. Her mind was blank, except for a faint buzz of confusion. What were they talking about? Why had Inutaisho gone away? She was only just beginning to understand the structure of this demon group as a simple, small family unit. It was a mother, a father, and a son. The others were servants of varying respects. She had no idea how they thought of one another, how close they were, or if they felt anything like the human love and affection that Izayoi had shared with her own family.

"You try to hide it," Shiroihana said, lower now. "But you can't disguise it from me. I know you see me just as I see you while I stare into the mirror. You are not meant to serve your father. He did not raise you, did not give you life—but he did kill y—your uncle. He killed your namesake. You know your destiny, Sesshomaru. Do you deny it now?"

"My path is separate," Sesshomaru replied, coolly. "It is of my own choice."

"Then why do you care so much for _him?"_ she yelled.

"I do not. I care for neither of you. I will defeat Father when the time is right. And as for Mother…"

"You will kill me as well?" Shiroihana asked. Instead of sounding alarmed or upset, the demon woman let out a short burst of sharp laughter. It was dark and struck Izayoi as being masculine, powerful. The little girl recalled dimly that this demon woman was called a _queen_. Apparently it was not without reason.

Sesshomaru inhaled in a sniffing sound. "I will forget you."

Shiroihana cackled and Izayoi shuddered at the sound. "You lie to yourself, Sesshomaru. We are as ants to Fate, and for you there is only one Fate, one path. That path is inseparable from me."

"Ridiculous," Sesshomaru snapped. The footsteps thumped rapidly and Izayoi had time only to tense before the young dog demon appeared through the doorway. He glared at her for half a second and then turned his back on her, walking away.

Inside the room, gentler footsteps vibrated the floorboards. Izayoi held her breath as Shiroihana peered out the doorway. Her long white hair was loose except for a few strands upfront that she had secured back with a clip that was decorated with shimmering gold that tinkled metallically. Shiroihana gazed first in the direction that Sesshomaru had walked in, then gradually and uncaringly at the human girl.

Izayoi dropped into a bow and murmured apologies at the demon woman, afraid of the queen's wrath. It never came.

The doorway to Shiroihana's room grated on its track as Shiroihana pushed it open even wider. She let out a long, loud sigh. "Little girl," she called in her deep voice, "what was your name?"

"Miyabita Izayoi," she answered, still pressed submissively to the floor.

"Sit up, Izayoi," Shiroihana told her.

Izayoi did so obediently and stared with open curiosity and wonder at Shiroihana. The demon woman was dressed informally in a short, thin kimono. A bright, full white fur wreathed her shoulders. She stroked it as she reclined in the doorway and examined Izayoi while the little girl did likewise.

"Do you enjoy eavesdropping, little Izayoi?" Shiroihana asked.

"I don't know what that is," Izayoi admitted and peeled her eyes from Shiroihana in embarrassment. She had some idea what the expression meant but she wouldn't fess up to it.

"Oh yes you do," Shiroihana said with an inelegant, unladylike grunt. "However should I punish you?"

Izayoi decided to risk speaking up with a distraction to keep Shiroihana from coming up with a bad solution to that question. "Where has Lord Inutaisho gone? I miss him as a teacher, very much!"

Shiroihana smiled, closed-lipped and mirthlessly. "He has gone away. He will be gone all winter and much of the spring I expect. Lord Inutaisho has many pressing needs to attend."

"Can I write to Lord Inutaisho?" Izayoi asked earnestly.

"Silly little Izayoi," Shiroihana teased. She took a step forward and knelt until she was almost on the same level as the human girl on her hands and knees. The demon woman peered into Izayoi's eyes, scrutinizing her as one might with a disgusting but unidentified insect, harmless but destined to end up squashed under a shoe. "What makes you believe he has any time for you? He would just as soon eat you as teach you. He will never write back to you." She smiled with false encouragement. "Silly, foolish little human."

Shiroihana reached out and touched Izayoi's cheek, caressing it. Izayoi stared at the demon woman, too stunned and confused to move.

"What's the matter?" Shiroihana asked, tilting her head.

Izayoi searched quickly for something to say, something to explain and cover the inexplicable sadness she felt, the loss. "Lord Inutaisho was a very good teacher. Lord Kuenai is not as good. He is angry with us when we do nothing wrong."

"That's because he doesn't like you," Shiroihana told her bluntly, dispassionately.

Izayoi felt her face crinkling, grimacing with unexpected tears. She steeled herself, unwilling to cry. "I know—but Takemaru does better with Lord Inutaisho."

"Kuenai tells me that he's an imbecile," Shiroihana said, standing upright again. She towered over Izayoi. "But perhaps something must be done. Kuenai is too good a teacher for the likes of humans." Shiroihana let out a purr that grated on Izayoi's ears. It was not unpleasant, but unnatural to her human ears.

"Thank you for your insight, little Izayoi," Shiroihana said. "I will see to it myself that you have a new teacher tomorrow."

Izayoi bowed immediately, repeatedly thanking the demon woman and calling her _queen._

_

* * *

_

The next morning, during their usual breakfast with the geckos and monkeys watching over them, Izayoi excitedly shared the encounter with Shiroihana and her promise. Takemaru stared at her, gawking and scowling in turns.

Finally, instead of rewarding Izayoi with silence as he usually did, Takemaru said, "She is a monster. You shouldn't have said anything."

"She's not so bad," Izayoi insisted. "You'll see, Takemaru. None of them are that bad!"

She was full of grins as they walked into the little room that served as their classroom and sat down. They prepared the ink, wetting and rubbing it, dabbing the brushes in. From the door behind them came the swish of robes, long and more elaborate than those that Kuenai usually wore. Izayoi and Takemaru stared with shock as Shiroihana herself settled in to become their teacher. She smiled at them, enigmatic, distant, unutterably beautiful in her otherworldliness.

"Write out your names for me," she instructed at once.

Izayoi and Takemaru did as they were told. Izayoi finished first, spelling out the first and last name. Then she blew on the ink, trying to dry it faster.

"Stop that blowing," Shiroihana scolded, barking. "It's improper. Your job is to be demure and obedient, serene and patient. Do you understand?"

Izayoi blinked. "Yes, ma'am."

Takemaru finished a moment later and Shiroihana snatched it from him roughly, actually tearing the delicate rice paper with her powerful, sharp claws in her carelessness. She gazed at it only for a moment and then passed it back to him. Her lips were curved in a smile, but her eyes were sharp and harsh with malicious cruelty. She was a cat about to play with a cornered mouse.

"You are so unskilled that I cannot make out this script." That was untrue. Izayoi could read it and this was a lesson that Takemaru had learned proficiently while living with his clan at home. As both a boy and being a little older he had come to Kagetsu with more education than Izayoi.

Takemaru scowled with suppressed anger. He said nothing.

Izayoi decided to defend him. "Lord Inutaisho could read it. So could Lord Kuenai."

Shiroihana's attention flicked to Izayoi. "You're being improper again, little Izayoi. Kuenai is a _master_, not a lord. Lords are born into their position, masters are made. Do you understand?"

Izayoi nodded and fought the desire to scowl just as Takemaru was.

"Write out several titles," Shiroihana ordered Izayoi. "I want to see that you know at least how to _write_ properly."

Izayoi pinched her lips together and dabbed her brush into the inkwell.

To Takemaru, Shiroihana said, "What's the matter, boy? Your face is as wrinkled as an old man's. How unattractive. Do you not wish to be here? Do you not appreciate this lesson? Or are you afraid of me? Angry, perhaps?"

Takemaru was silent and unmoving, like a dormant volcano.

Shiroihana laughed, a sound that both children knew they would come to despise. When she grinned her teeth glinted white and wet at the fangs, top and bottom canines. "Very well, if you have nothing to say, Boy, then write your name again for me until I can read it. After that we shall go one to reading. I will have you both read aloud. You must speak properly, without any foolish, ignorant accent."

The lesson dragged onward, feeling longer than any they had with Inutaisho or Kuenai, but somehow it only lasted half as long. Shiroihana was not particularly interested in _teaching_ them, only in _teasing_ them, belittling them.

Afterwards, Takemaru pounced on Izayoi, as angry as a charging bull. "This is all _your_ fault! You're as bad as she is! Why'd you have to go and open your big, stupid mouth?"

"I'm sorry!" Izayoi wailed, dissolving into sobs. "I was trying to help!"

"Yeah?" Takemaru demanded, lifting his hands and curling them into fists. "Well, I don't need your help! You're nothing but a useless little cockroach!"

They were on the terrace, surrounded by the thick, moist mist. Izayoi quivered, certain that Takemaru would beat her, but instead he collapsed and covered his face. His shoulders shook and he began to make wet, gasping cries.

"I want to go home!" he howled. "Mother! Father! Please…I just want to go home!"

Izayoi forgot her own tears as she realized and half recalled that Takemaru was suffering more than she was. She had never seen him cry, though she knew he did it when he was alone. Now it was powerful enough to spill out, to overwhelm his pride. He was a year or so older than Izayoi, taller and thicker, but Izayoi felt somehow stronger than him, braver. The demons did not terrify her, only intrigued her. At the worst they merely startled or frightened.

Izayoi dropped down to her hands and knees and reached for Takemaru. "It's okay…"

He pushed her hands away when she first touched his shoulders, but then as she persisted, Takemaru grabbed her hands and her arms, pulling her closer. He cuddled into her like a child, crying his warm tears into her shoulder and the crook of her neck. They clung to each other for a long time, until the mists began to glow orange with distant, obscured light from the sunset.

Takemaru finally asked, "Don't you miss your family? Your mother? Your father?"

Izayoi sniffled, suddenly shivering. "My mother is dead, but I do miss my father, everyday."

Takemaru pulled away from her and stared into her face, searchingly. "Don't you wanna go home?"

Izayoi nodded solemnly. "I miss Father." She blinked at the renewed surge of tears.

Takemaru smiled weakly, wanly. He squeezed her hand. "Let's runaway together. I didn't want to do it alone, but—"

"No," Izayoi interrupted, shaking her head. "It took so long to get here. We would get lost. Do you even remember the way?"

Takemaru's head and shoulders drooped. "No," he admitted.

"We'll go home," Izayoi said. "Someday we will. I know we will. Together, you and me." She could not stop herself from giggling nervously when she remembered that they were supposed to marry each other. "When we're married. We just have to be brave until then."

"I am brave," Takemaru snapped. He seemed sheepish, uncomfortable now that Izayoi had pointed out their inevitable marriage.

"I know," she reassured him. "We'll be brave together."

* * *

The winter and spring passed with grueling slowness. Shiroihana insisted on sitting with her human hostages once a day for an hour or so, though except for reading new and different texts, neither Takemaru or Izayoi learned anything from her. Each day she forced Takemaru to write his name, which he did proficiently and readably each time. Then she insisted that it was illegible. She never called him by name, claiming that if she couldn't read his name then she couldn't say it, obviously. She treated him with aloof disdain, constantly taking amusement from his suffering.

Takemaru almost never refuted or fought her, but away from her the little boy was twisted with hate for her. He often told Izayoi of his desire to kill her, to strike her and see blood.

Sesshomaru left just before the first snows, which trapped Shiroihana and the human children inside Kagetsu palace together with no one else to offer respite or distraction. Shiroihana sharpened her claws on the humans, especially Takemaru, all through the winter. She managed to reduce the tougher, brighter Izayoi as well. She began assigning Izayoi with physical labor randomly in the winter, but by spring the little girl was virtually another maid to Shiroihana.

Each day Izayoi had to scramble from breakfast with Takemaru to meet with Izayoi and help dress her alongside the monkeys that normally attended her. Shiroihana usually chatted meaninglessly at all of her maids. The monkeys agreed with her stupidly, not really listening, but if Izayoi answered then Shiroihana toyed with her until Izayoi's muscles were rigid with irritation.

Other duties were random, but at times Shiroihana bathed with the little girl, then forced Izayoi to hold the towel for her while she shivered naked in the colder air of the palace. Izayoi combed Shiroihana's hair, a pleasant task, until she was better at it than the monkeys were. Shiroihana actually offered praise to the little girl in these instances, but she was never positive in the classroom. She constantly told Izayoi that her task as a mortal woman was to sit about doing nothing. No substantial thoughts should ever pass through her mind. When Izayoi spoke up about something in the literature they read, Shiroihana shushed her.

"You are not the one that should talk about this text," she said while glaring maliciously at Takemaru. "Your job is only to lie on your back while this little fool ruts with you. Then of course you must tell him that he's done a fine job and be happy when your body swells up like a tick filled with blood. You're not allowed to say anything clever because you'll intimidate this little idiot that you're going to marry. If he was especially smart, then you could say at least something, little Izayoi. But because he's such a dullard, you cannot do anything lest you make him look bad. Do you understand?"

These taunts were truly meant for Takemaru, but both humans felt them.

"I will kill her," Takemaru muttered during their shared meals outside of class. "There is no one deserving death more than her!"

* * *

As summer at last returned to the Kosetsu and Kagetsu palace, Izayoi was nearing 10 years old. Takemaru was already 11. When they weren't enduring Shiroihana's taunting and belittling, Izayoi and Takemaru were playing. Hide and seek was a favorite, as was tag—though that one frustrated Izayoi because Takemaru always beat her at it. Sometimes they constructed elaborate role playing games where they flexed their imaginations. Takemaru liked to pretend that he was a dragon and that Izayoi was a maiden who'd been cursed and it was his responsibility to save her and end the curse with various ingredients he found around the castle.

One day, during a hide and seek game, Izayoi was on the hunt for Takemaru, sliding open every doorway down every long, empty corridor. Though she doubted that Takemaru would hide in the long hall where Shiroihana's rooms were, where she slept, dressed, and studied, Izayoi was drawn there by some strange sounds. She sensed activity and went to investigate. The hallway was normally silent except for the occasional patter or thump of steps over the hardwood floors. Now it was filled with low moans and gasps.

The sounds hit Izayoi, impacting her as if they were hands roving over her body or smacking her in the face. She halted at one far end of the hall, staring unseeingly, listening. The rhythmic moans, gasps, and cries initially made her think of pain or trouble. She had been ready to rush in to help Takemaru or one of the bizarre gecko and monkey maids. But when she was closer to the sounds they inspired a different sensation, a new mood.

Izayoi had no experience with sex at all, but the noises she heard were primal and gripped her. She was intrigued, fascinated, and also disturbed. She felt mildly queasy and wanted to leave but could not force her legs to start moving. They had turned to stone.

She crept from room to room as the noises continued, listening as she knelt beside the door. She moved as quietly as she could while her mind burned feverishly, desperate to fathom what was going on. The room that the noises emanated from was of course Shiroihana's room. Eventually Izayoi determined that there were two vocalists, one male and one female. She recognized Shiroihana's voice in the moans, cries, and gasps. The other was unfamiliar. Izayoi tried to imagine one of the dog demons she had met and heard over her stay in the Kosetsu. Daken the messenger and lowborn mongrel, Kuenai the master, Sesshomaru the son of the Western Lands, and Inutaisho.

None of them struck Izayoi as matching.

When the cries grew louder in a crescendo, Izayoi ran away, unable to withstand it any longer.

It took her a long time—more than a year—to comprehend what she had heard that day.

* * *

In the late summer Daken unexpectedly appeared, shouting for both Izayoi and Takemaru. When they came to him, sweaty from the hot, muggy day and exerting themselves in a prolonged game of tag, the dog demon brought them to the bright, white audience room, the first room they had seen upon reaching the Kagetsu palace. They entered and sat down on the floor somberly, side by side.

As they bowed, Izayoi felt a wave of déjà vu. On the viewing platform Shiroihana, Inutaisho, and Sesshomaru were seated in the same half circle formation. Shiroihana was the furthest in front, the position of the ruler, the place of honor. Izayoi by now shared the same opinion as Takemaru on that subject: Anyone but Shiroihana deserved that.

"Izayoi," Shiroihana called out.

"Yes ma'am?" Izayoi answered, sitting up promptly.

"Stand up and approach us. Lord Inutaisho wants to have a look at you." The snide way in which Shiroihana spoke, with her eyes narrowed and partly directed backward, over her shoulder, told Izayoi that the demon woman was irritated with Inutaisho.

As Izayoi got to her feet tentatively, she remembered the conversation she had overheard between Sesshomaru and Shiroihana. It had left her stupidly stunned, and she had partly dismissed it, banished it into her memory. Now it leapt up as she found herself trying to comprehend this twisted nonhuman family. She stepped forward, gazing headlong at Inutaisho without realizing she was doing it.

When Inutaisho shifted uncomfortably, Izayoi averted her eyes, realizing that she had looked at him far too long. She noted both Sesshomaru and Shiroihana also watching her, one with wry amusement, the other blandly, with disinterest.

"Stop there," Shiroihana ordered when Izayoi was within five feet of their platform. She craned her neck around with a cruel smirk on her face. "Do you find her pleasing, Husband?"

"Mother," Sesshomaru interrupted. "That is inappropriate."

"Well," Shiroihana said, facing forward again. "His interest is inappropriate. Why are you both here wasting my time with this exhibition?" Shiroihana motioned with her graceful, clawed hand at Takemaru and Izayoi. She regarded the humans as if they were furniture, unhearing, unthinking, unseeing. "They are growing like weeds, but that's normal for humans, is it not?"

"You have no knowledge of humans," Inutaisho said bluntly. "That's why I've come to check on them."

"What's to know about them?" Shiroihana snapped. "They're vermin. Annoying vermin that can speak."

Izayoi shifted her weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable and uncertain of what to do with herself before these creatures. She sensed Takemaru's irritation and mounting offense and prayed the encounter ended soon.

Inutaisho pinched his lips together. His jaw squared in obvious frustration. Something in his gaze, in his demeanor, differed substantially from both Shiroihana and Sesshomaru. Izayoi would one day look back at it and realize it was embarrassment. Unlike Shiroihana and Sesshomaru, Inutaisho _knew_ humans; he knew they were as mentally capable as any dog demon. Shiroihana and Sesshomaru saw nothing unseemly of discussing the humans as if they were objects—because as hostages they were, and as humans they were truly, nothing. Inutaisho, however, knew that this encounter was just as embarrassing as having an inuyoukai witness their fight.

"Have you given any thought to their future, Shiroihana?" Inutaisho demanded.

"What future are you referring to?" Shiroihana countered. "Do you mean the pompous, arrogant future the boy has as a warrior? Or do you mean little Izayoi's inevitable enslavement to her dullard husband and in-laws? Or perhaps you mean when they die. Her of childbirth, and he on the end of some better warrior's blade." She stopped, smirking at Takemaru, then said, "I rather hope he meets his end in the mouthparts of some hungry scorpion or spider youkai."

"Mother," Sesshomaru interrupted. "Enough."

"You have no idea of how to care for them," Inutaisho muttered, sighing.

"And you do?" Shiroihana retorted, scoffing.

"I do," Inutaisho replied curtly. His nostrils flared and then he shook his head, blowing a long breath out his nose. "In about a year we must be sure they've been separated." He addressed Izayoi then, raising his voice. "Has the young Lady of the Miyabita become friends with the young Lord of the Setsuna?"

"Yes sir," Izayoi answered. Takemaru said nothing as was his usual.

"What ever does that have to do with anything?" Shiroihana asked, irritated. "Rats always befriend other rats. Why do you need to ask?"

"Mother," Sesshomaru said in his usual monotone.

Inutaisho ignored Shiroihana's protestations. He asked Izayoi, "How old are you now?"

"I'm almost ten," Izayoi told him. "Takemaru is eleven."

"Thank you," Inutaisho said, nodding. He motioned for the door. "You may both leave us now."

Daken approached from the back and escorted Izayoi and Takemaru out before vanishing again. Takemaru grumbled about the meeting as humiliating and stupid, that the dog demons made about as much sense as earthquakes or forest fires. Izayoi was impatient to get rid of Takemaru and rush back to the audience room to understand what the meeting had been about. She lied to Takemaru, saying she was going to take a bath. When he left, Izayoi ran all the way back to the audience room and then covered her mouth to hide her panting. She strained her ears to hear what the dog demons were talking about.

Shiroihana was talking in a high, almost whiny voice. "I will not tolerate you condescending to me. If you have a concern about the hostages, tell me about it and I will make the judgment. You were the ones that left them in my care to begin with! Do you think I want those little termites infesting my palace?"

"Enough," Sesshomaru said. "You would not have listened to Chichiue's suggestions. It was necessary to come here and evaluate them."

Shiroihana started to speak, but Inutaisho cut her off. "The girl is outside, listening."

Izayoi's eyes sprang open wide with horror. She quivered and tried to back away, but before she retreated far Shiroihana growled out, "What do I care? Why are you so concerned with them?"

"It is unseemly to—" Inutaisho never got a chance to finish before Sesshomaru interrupted.

"Chichiue, this Sesshomaru will remain at Kagetsu palace to watch over the hostages. At the appropriate time the boy will be taken to Nejiro castle. Is this agreeable?"

Inutaisho sighed. "Yes, that's fine."

"Good," Shiroihana snapped. "Now get out of here, swine."

Inutaisho growled, a low, furious sound that Izayoi imagined shook the screened walls and the wooden flooring. "As you wish, Queen."

Izayoi turned and fled, frightened at one of them would come out and reprimand her. She had no true answers to her questions but it hardly mattered—Sesshomaru didn't stay in Kagetsu more than two days before circumstances forced him to leave.

* * *

At their lesson the next morning, something snapped inside Takemaru. Shiroihana teased him with her usual unrelenting cruelty, but this time Takemaru screamed at her in a warlike shout and pulled out a chopstick that he had further whittled at, sharpening it. Shiroihana's hands had been on the small writing table between herself and the humans, laying over the latest paper that Takemaru had written his name out on, only to be told it wasn't readable.

Takemaru could not have moved faster than a dog demon, but Shiroihana was not easily frightened either, so when the boy cried out and lunged for her, Shiroihana did not flinch. She also did not pull her hands away.

That was how Takemaru succeeded in stabbing the chopstick through her hand, between the narrow, slender bones of the palm.

Shiroihana shrieked and bolted upright. She shook Takemaru off, knocking him to the floor. The table toppled over, ink spilled and crawled thickly over the floor. Some of it splashed onto Izayoi's short, child's kimono.

Takemaru spat at Shiroihana in rage, he bared his teeth like an animal. "Stupid bitch!"

Shiroihana had already regained her calm. She turned her hand over and pulled the chopstick out of it. Blood dribbled freely from the wound. Shiroihana brought it to her mouth and licked it, exactly as a dog would have. The motion made both Takemaru and Izayoi shrink with disgust.

The demon woman flicked her hand and much of the blood away, making a face that was caught between disgust and outrage. "Little fool," she spat. "Did you think you could kill _me?_ With this?" She held up his chosen weapon and grinned in a hard, mirthless expression. She looked monstrous—for the first time Izayoi felt true terror.

"I will kill you someday!" Takemaru vowed, spitting again.

"Unlikely," Shiroihana muttered. She turned the chopstick and brushed its bloodied tip over her tongue, tasting her own blood. Then she maneuvered it in her hand in such a way that Izayoi _knew_ she was going to attack Takemaru…to use the chopstick as he had on her…

Izayoi flung herself on Takemaru, interrupting the impending and horrifically mismatched fight. "Please! Lady Shiroihana! Forgive him! I beg you!"

The intercession worked. Shiroihana blinked and then, with a silent snarl, snapped the chopstick in half, then proceeded to shred it with her claws until it was nothing more than sawdust. She left the room, stomping out of it.

Takemaru pushed Izayoi off him and hit her in the shoulder. Izayoi cried out at the blow and scuttled away. "What the hell did you do that for?" he yelled.

Izayoi stared at him, baffled and disturbed—then _angry. _"I just saved your life!"

"No, you made me into a coward!" Takemaru shouted, still shaking the intensity of his rage. "You shamed me!"

Takemaru ran from the room, cursing like a man though he was still trapped in the small body of a boy. Izayoi, left alone, stared at the blood dribbled on the floor and the remains of the chopstick, all the signs of struggle…

She knew life was about to change radically for her again.

* * *

The next day Sesshomaru took Takemaru away. The boy's things were packed up and hauled out by a bizarre assemblage of geckos, monkeys, and kitsune demons. Daken oversaw it all while Takemaru stayed under Sesshomaru's protection and watchful eye. Izayoi's body was heavy with sadness and jealousy. She knew very little about the organization of the Western Lands, but she did understand that Sesshomaru was only an escort. He was only a companion, the son of Lord Inutaisho. Sesshomaru would probably take Takemaru to Inutaisho then—Nejiro castle.

Izayoi longed to follow Takemaru and Sesshomaru, to escape Kagetsu palace, which she had once thought of as infinitely beautiful and mystical.

Before she had to run off and attend Shiroihana in the demon woman's dressing room, Izayoi caught Takemaru and asked him to write to her. Takemaru nodded somberly but did not offer the promise verbally. Izayoi recognized the quick flicks of his eyes as being signs of his nervousness.

Their goodbye was cool, lacking any theatrics, not that either was prone to them. Sesshomaru was watching them blandly, with removed interest. It was not disapproval, but the scrutiny made both of them uncertain, especially Takemaru.

After Takemaru left, Shiroihana gradually seemed to forget about teaching Izayoi anything. Izayoi was free to roam, play, or study on her own when Shiroihana didn't force the young girl to act as a maid. Life dissolved into meaningless, monotonous drudgery. Only letters from Takemaru brightened her time in the palace. Izayoi learned that Inutaisho had hired a human teacher for Takemaru. His writing improved until it surpassed Izayoi's in only a season.

Winter came and locked the Kagetsu palace in place, trapping Shiroihana and Izayoi together.

For the first time Izayoi realized that the child's kimono she had been wearing was becoming too short. As the winter progressed, Izayoi's body evolved around her rapidly. Small breasts seemed to sprout overnight; the softness of her face gave way to sculpted cheekbones and chin as baby fat changed into adult fat, repositioning itself.

By the time spring arrived, Izayoi had begun to resemble a teenager rather than a child. She would not fill out properly for years, but in the way of all human females, she underwent the radical changes that would initiate her first tentative cycles of fertility and eventually maturity.

She was only 11.

* * *

Endnote: Izayoi's chapters at least early here are filled with confusion, questioning. As a child of course she doesn't quite understand sex. Hopefully she doesn't seem too young or old developmentally here. I am reaching back into my own innocence, but it's hard because let's face it, my American experience growing up in the 90s was NOT like Izayoi's. There were different attitudes and NO TV. She's living in a vacuum. But unlike the children of today, Izayoi would have matured more quickly I think. Our society turns us all into little blithering adolescents for years and years. It extends immaturity out far beyond what we would have seen in the past. In the past other cultures and times have viewed "children" very different. I've actually heard of places and times that thought of children as just mini adults and treated them that way. They were forced to keep adult hours, dress as adults, eat like them...they just weren't viewed as being especially different from adults. Today we think of children very differently. But as I learned years ago in sociology, our view defines our world, not the other way around. So Izayoi I believe would naturally mature faster in the mental department, at least that's my thinking.

Because I know at 11 I was pretty clueless. I knew where babies came from because my mom was a nurse and dispensed with storks, Easter bunnies, Santa Clause and all that childhood nonsense. Some people get all prissy when I say that like "Your mom is evil for depriving you!" Ha! I never felt deprived, I felt empowered. I had college-level biology knowledge in elementary school and I felt no less wonder at life than the kids around me that had been deprived of knowledge but still believed in "toothfairies." I believe it was infinitely more meaningful to know that presents at Christmas came from my loving and generous parents, not some creepy laughing fat man in red that squeezed through some invisible chimney. So why is it we lie to our kids that way and consider it a crime to give them reality? Stupid.

Sorry, that's a personal beef of mine. Anyway, suffice to say, Izayoi has no illusions of Santa and she's receiving a hard education on life away from the protection and love of the only family she has left.

That said, preview for next time!

Shiroihana terrorizes Izayoi:

_"Privates," Shiroihana said, almost barking. "The penis. A cock. All men have one. That includes your fool of a future husband. And when they get excited with a woman it sprouts up and that is when they must hold her down and stab her with it."_

_"What?" Izayoi blurted, eyes widening._

Izayoi accidentally offends Sesshomaru and nearly pays for it with her life:

_In the quiet that followed Izayoi's little shuddering cries echoed in the room. Finally Sesshomaru broke it. "Human—promise that you will not reveal this to any other. In return I will spare your life."_

_"I promise!" Izayoi shrieked. She hardly registered his demand and would have agreed to almost anything he suggested. She would have agreed to marry one of the geckos if Sesshomaru had asked._

_ "Very well," Sesshomaru said, returning to his dispassionate monotone. "If you break the promise this Sesshomaru will kill you. Do you understand?"_

__And more!


	17. Izayoi: Menarche

A/N: I chose that title because I absolutely love it, just as a word. Look at it. You can see a possible connotation in the spelling to _matriarch_ or _monarch._ I just love that word. If you don't know it, go look it up. I love that we have a specific word for it. Excellent. I don't care who you are, if the story is about the maturation of a girl, you have to cover menarche. I bet there isn't a single mentally sound woman out there who doesn't remember hers.

Disclaimer: I do not own them.

* * *

Last Chapter: When we finished Izayoi was 11. Izayoi overheard several conversations because the inuyoukai, especially Shiroihana and Sess, think of her as little more than a flea. Inutaisho is the only one that seems to respect her a little more. Izayoi heard Sess and Shiroihana talking about Inutaisho, about how Sess would defeat him. Izayoi heard Shiroihana with her lover. Also, there was a changing of the guard as Inutaisho left Kuenai in charge of teaching the children, but when Izayoi complained to Shiroihana, the queen herself stepped in and decided to "tutor" the human hostages. She ridiculed Takemaru until the little boy snapped and stabbed her with a sharpened chopstick. After that Sess took Takemaru to Nejiro. Takemaru and Izayoi had only just started to bond at the end of last chapter.

* * *

Raymond A Foss, "A Year Closer" (last few lines)

No longer a little girl,  
not yet a teen, in that awkward  
in between age, eleven today  
the beginning of the slow two-year march  
inexorably, to thirteen.

* * *

Izayoi

(Letter to Nejiro Castle from Kagetsu palace)

Lord Sesshomaru,

I am very sorry to trouble you. I hope you can forgive me for being too forward. There is something very important that I can't tell you in writing. Please, come and take me to Nejiro castle. I can only tell the secret to the Great Lord Inutaisho.

Thank you,

Miyabita Izayoi

* * *

**Menarche **

It was late spring and the cherry blossoms were in full bloom when Izayoi had her first bit of education about what happened between men and women, husbands and wives, lovers. The demon woman was in the bath, the air was dense and warm with steam. Izayoi was waiting on her like one of the strange maids, holding towels and perfumed oils and robes. She was glad for the warmth of the bath, but eager to take one herself. She had eaten breakfast but not yet had a chance to bathe before it was time for her to serve Shiroihana.

Izayoi was almost dozing while standing upright, thinking about some of the books and scrolls she had been reading in her free time over the winter and early spring. Then Shiroihana broke through her thoughts, scattering them.

"Take off your clothes and step into the bath," Shiroihana ordered.

Izayoi snapped into alertness. "What?"

"Always address your elders and betters with a title," Shiroihana commanded airily. "Try it again. You must have it right to impress that dullard boy's parents."

Izayoi ignored the sardonic speech—Shiroihana's usual fare—amending the language automatically. "Could you repeat your orders, ma'am?"

Shiroihana raised her hands out of the water, making it tinkle. "Strip off your clothes and join me, girl. I want to talk to you and see your body."

Izayoi's brow furrowed with consternation but she had no reason to doubt Shiroihana and no real power to escape her. She passed off the towel she was holding to a monkey waiting behind her and untied her robe, shedding it. She stepped off into the bath with a shiver of pleasure at its warmth. With every motion she felt Shiroihana's scrutiny and mounting amusement.

"You are maturing so quickly. Such swift, short lives humans live!" Shiroihana mused. As if reflecting on her own transformation hundreds of years previously, Shiroihana stroked her own hands over her body, from the neck down to her hips.

Izayoi understood that her body was changing, and had always known that she would one day be a woman, but she had had no idea what to expect and had not yet experienced her first menstruation. Although she could not know this, Shiroihana's nose was acute enough to sense the changing hormones and to be able to guess with some accuracy at when Izayoi would be fertile for the very first time.

Awkward, uncomfortable, Izayoi sat as far as she could from the demon woman in the luxuriously tiled bath. Dolphins leaped in turquoise water, navy blue against aqua. White and green tiles danced in a pattern at the waterline. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if hiding her hands because she was afraid to touch the bath walls.

"Have you thought often of that little imbecile you're going to marry?" Shiroihana asked, purring. She was sitting low in the water so that her chin touched the surface and popped the occasional unwary bubble.

"Takemaru and I write to each other often, yes," Izayoi replied, staring at the tiling.

"Ah," Shiroihana murmured. Her eyes were half-lidded as she gazed at Izayoi over the ripples of the bathwater. "You did not understand what I was asking. Little Izayoi, little girl child, you are truly innocent, unknowing." Shiroihana chuckled with dark amusement. She sat upright, slurping and sloshing the water. "I suppose that it would be better for you not to know what lies ahead in your future, but I have never believed in ignorant women of any species."

Izayoi schooled her face to avoid showing both the confusion and irritation she felt at the demon woman's words. If Shiroihana did not believe in leaving women ignorant, then why had she forgotten about even pretending to teach Izayoi? As Takemaru's most recent letters had spilled in, Izayoi began to see characters that were foreign to her—she had not yet learned them. Takemaru was excelling under the tutoring of a human sensei. Izayoi was not that picky—but she did require a little help. She had struggled to keep up by requesting reading material from Shiroihana's extensive library. That often went well, Shiroihana did not restrict her reading truly, but there were times when the demon woman would tell her no—because it was improper, of course.

A human woman, a human wife, had no reason to be reading. She was not meant to be smart.

"At what age do young human girls marry?" Shiroihana asked, smirking.

Izayoi shook her head. "I don't know."

"Say it properly," Shiroihana ordered impassively.

"I don't know ma'am."

"I suspect it isn't much older than you are now." Shiroihana turned her hand over, examining the lines on her own palm and then peered critically at her claws. Izayoi had been around Shiroihana enough over the last few months that she had become fairly astute at guessing what Shiroihana's thoughtless little tics meant. The demon monarch was rarely nonchalant, rarely unthinking—but this was one of the few times and places that Izayoi doubted that she had a motive other than pleasure or amusement—it was the same as when she taunted Izayoi or Takemaru previously, except lacking the maliciousness.

Izayoi relaxed a little into the water and began splashing it onto her face, scrubbing away the sweat from the previous night.

"So it won't be long now before you're married off to that little imbecilic boy."

"Takemaru of the Setsuna clan," Izayoi said, automatically supplying her betrothed husband's name to the demon woman who had never bothered to remember or even learn the name.

Shiroihana ignored the interruption. "And after you endure the silly ceremonies, the guests, and the gifts, it will be just you and that boy together. Do you understand, little Izayoi, that he will want something of you? There is one final thing you must do with him to celebrate your marriage."

Izayoi was hardly listening to Shiroihana, but she did note the demon woman's changing tone. This topic was more important and meaningful than she had initially guessed. She spluttered on the water a little and made a face as some of the soap slipped into her eye. Her hair was long and had never been styled properly, not that Izayoi knew that she was lacking it. She rubbed at her eye while she waited for Shiroihana to go on.

"I'm sure that boy will know exactly what to do with you. He will be a beast, frothing at the mouth. All of them are. He will rut you like a pig scouring mud with his tusks."

Izayoi popped a bubble in mounting boredom. "Rut?"

Shiroihana did not define it for her, simply moved on. "Have you ever seen a naked human man?"

"I've bathed with my father," Izayoi answered.

Shiroihana nodded, smiling with the malicious amusement that never failed to make Izayoi feel queasy. "Then you've seen their anatomy. You've seen the dangling extra finger between their legs."

Izayoi scowled. It was difficult for her to remember it. "A finger?"

"Privates," Shiroihana said, almost barking. "The penis. A cock. All men have one. That includes your fool of a future husband. And when they get excited with a woman it sprouts up and that is when they must hold her down and stab her with it."

"What?" Izayoi blurted, eyes widening.

"All men are violent, untrustworthy animals, little Izayoi. They will all want to stab you with their privates." Shiroihana was grinning as if she was telling an especially funny joke, but Izayoi knew that this demon woman did not tell jokes that made anyone laugh but herself. "And to get married to that little idiot of yours he will have to stab you until you bleed."

"Until I bleed?" Izayoi said, gaping. Dimly she knew that Shiroihana was probably lying. She had said Takemaru's handwriting was unreadable when it was perfectly legible.

"If you do not bleed on your first night together as husband and wife then his parents will want you to be killed, I'm sure. If you don't bleed when he stabs you with his little prick then they will think you've been stabbed before!" Shiroihana reached up and began stroking the long locks of her hair, separating and twining them with her fingers.

"I don't want to be stabbed," Izayoi mumbled, frowning.

"Are you frightened?" Shiroihana asked and sat forward, scooting closer to Izayoi through the bathwater, like a close friend about to whisper a secret. Her golden eyes were alight, burning.

Izayoi shrank from her, intimidated and uncomfortable. "Yes."

"Then let me tell you a secret, little Izayoi." Shiroihana grinned, showing her bright white, sharp canines. "If you ever want to be married, if you ever want to make babies, you will need to endure it. I have endured it, but I am inuyoukai, not a fragile, weak-bodied human like yourself."

Izayoi was silent, watching the bubbles, the tiling, the walls. She did not believe Shiroihana, but she did know that the anatomy of her father had indeed resembled a finger—a rather large and bulbous finger at least—but she had seen naked little boys before and they had it as well. Truth mixed with lies then.

"Many women come to enjoy it," Shiroihana murmured. She laid her hands over own breasts, much larger and more developed than Izayoi's. "He will touch you here…" Her hands slid downward, over the flat expanse of her stomach and toward her hips where twin bands of pink-purple looked as if they had been painted on the left and right. "And here…He will own your body and all the children you bear from it."

Izayoi had long since averted her eyes. Her cheeks were burning. She shielded her body from Shiroihana, laying one arm over her tiny breasts and the other across her belly.

"Have I disturbed you, child?" Shiroihana asked.

Izayoi knew better than to answer.

* * *

A month later in the very early summer, when the temperature had just begun to stabilize but the humidity had not yet kicked in completely; Izayoi found that Shiroihana was indisposed. Usually her morning consisted of acting as a maid to Shiroihana, but on this morning the monkeys that served Shiroihana turned Izayoi away. No one was attending the demon monarch.

Instead, Shiroihana was in her bed chambers and had not left all night. From inside the room, Izayoi heard the muffled moans, gasps, and cries of pleasure that she had heard the previous summer after Inutaisho and Sesshomaru had left her and Takemaru in Kagetsu palace. They were intriguing and disturbing. Izayoi lingered, trying to understand what was happening, and who exactly Shiroihana was with.

Izayoi did not understand sex, did not connect it with pleasure or recreation. She also didn't understand that that was what she was hearing. Her body knew, but her mind lagged far behind. She had a vague sense of wrongdoing, of violation.

The next day the monkeys were still unneeded, as was Izayoi. Shiroihana and the other noisemaker, the man, were still indisposed with one another. Izayoi busied herself by digging through Shiroihana's library. She grabbed poetry books and travel logs, even records and genealogies. She stumbled upon several that were in a language with kanji she could not read at all. She did not know it but she was staring at Chinese. She used Shiroihana's writing tools, paper, brushes, and ink to compose a letter to Takemaru. She practiced poetry in the letter, constructing sentences that were descriptive as well as expository. She knew her script would not be as finely tuned as Takemaru's now—but according to Shiroihana that was normal for a human woman.

It was well into the afternoon when Shiroihana burst into the room. She was wearing a light silken robe that was tied sloppily so that it draped loosely from one shoulder, partially exposing the fullness of one breast. She frowned when she saw Izayoi knelt at her writing desk. "What are you doing here, little girl?"

"I was writing a letter," Izayoi told her truthfully.

Another shape, tall and lithe, loomed up behind Shiroihana. Izayoi saw the brightness of free-flowing white hair and at once thought of Sesshomaru or Inutaisho. She cried out with glee, not pausing to think in the slightest. "Is Lord Inutaisho here? Has he come to be my teacher again?"

Shiroihana scowled unrestrainedly, a rare and obvious reveal of her displeasure. "Get out."

Izayoi quickly took up her letter to Takemaru and scrambled out of the room, pressing her body to the opposite side of the doorway as she slunk passed Shiroihana. The demon woman swatted her as she went and laughed when Izayoi squeaked with surprise. The touch was not painful, merely startling—but as Izayoi swung her gaze from Shiroihana to the male form behind her, she slowed to stare at him.

She did not know this inuyoukai. He was not as heavily built as Inutaisho, yet not as slender and graceful as Sesshomaru. He had an open, gentle face, but his eyes were narrowed as he watched her. His irises were not gold like Inutaisho, Shiroihana, or Sesshomaru's. These were blue like water reflecting the sky on a summer day. Over his cheeks there were three narrow blue-green stripe marks. It was different from all the other dog demons Izayoi had seen.

"Shiroihana," the male asked. "Is this a new servant? Have you finally decided to hire humans?"

Shiroihana snorted. "Don't be ridiculous—this is a hostage."

The dog demon male had not stopped examining Izayoi and now his mouth fell open with surprise. He glanced quickly away and spoke with alarm. "A hostage? Shiroihana! Have you lost your mind?"

Izayoi took in his informal clothing, the sheen of sweat on his skin…He matched Shiroihana well. Again Izayoi felt the vague sense of wrongness, a queasy twist inside her gut. This stranger was the other noisemaker inside Shiroihana's bedroom.

"Why are you so concerned, Lord Koshoshiro?" Shiroihana asked, shaking her head. Her hair was long and unrestrained, uncombed and tangled, as if someone had been gripping it, mangling individual strands and hairs. It was a child's hair, a maiden's hair, the hair of someone with no cares, no responsibilities.

Izayoi started hurrying away but Koshoshiro caught her with his clawed hand. She let out a little sound of fear though he did not hurt her and did not hold her very hard.

"How old are you?" Koshoshiro asked.

"I'm eleven," Izayoi muttered, staring at the floor.

"She's too young and too simple to care about us," Shiroihana said. "Let her go, she scares easily, like a doe." Shiroihana sighed, apparently relaxed and confident, at ease.

Koshoshiro released his hold on Izayoi and the girl dashed away, clutching the letter that she had written. At the end of the hall she rounded the corner and held her breath, straining to listen.

"You are right that humans make the best servants," Shiroihana was saying amicably, the most pleasant and genuine voice that Izayoi had ever heard from the demon queen. "She's a much better conversationalist than either the geckos or the monkeys. She thinks before responding and she's understandable. And her hands are just as capable as the monkeys'. But I could never allow enough of them to live in the palace to serve me properly. They would be such a temptation to Sesshomaru and my fool husband."

"You don't understand humans, Shiroihana," Koshoshiro muttered almost imperceptibly.

"That idiot Inutaisho is fond of saying that," Shiroihana snapped, irritated. "Yet he can never explain why. Perhaps you can do better."

"That girl is a hostage. She doesn't want to be here. By parading me around here you've exposed everything! She has power to manipulate you." He paused and then exploded, yelling. "How could you be so careless, Shiroihana? Don't you understand the danger we're in? Already we're at Sesshomaru's mercy. If your son was—"

"Forget about my son; forget about Inutaisho, that bastard. And the girl is completely harmless."

Izayoi fled from the corner where she was hiding, unable to take in anymore. Her head was spinning, her heart pulsating in a beat that matched the pounding in her ears. She was old enough to understand adultery, cheating. She had heard romantic tales as a child, and cheating, adultery, was common in the tragic ones. The worst she had heard was of a lovesick wife who tossed herself into a river when her husband forgot about her. Izayoi did not understand sex, she did not know emotional love between man and woman—but she understood deception, betrayal, and cheating.

Though she had struggled from the very moment she had first met the dog demons to grasp their internal structure, their family mechanics, Izayoi was not certain that she had managed it just yet. But she did know that Shiroihana and Inutaisho were husband and wife and Sesshomaru was their son. She had gathered that Inutaisho and Shiroihana were not friendly, but this was different. Koshoshiro's concern, his remark about danger, told Izayoi that this was _not_ acceptable in inuyoukai marriage just as it wasn't in human relationships.

Especially not for a woman, a wife.

When she was safe inside her room once more, Izayoi looked at the letter she had written to Takemaru and had a new idea.

* * *

Izayoi wrote Takemaru another letter the next day, but in this one she cryptically asked him to pass along a separate sealed note to Sesshomaru. That note requested that Sesshomaru come and fetch her from Kagetsu palace and take her to Inutaisho. She sent the letter with one of the foxes that frequently crossed the Western Lands as a courier. She expected that in a month's time Sesshomaru would arrive to take her to Nejiro, or Takemaru would write with word of what had happened, if Sesshomaru had said no.

She waited anxiously through the next few weeks as her normal routine continued. She pretended to be dull, demure. Shiroihana showed no signs of suspicion.

The results she had been waiting for happened suddenly one night, without warning. Izayoi was fast asleep in her large room, in the enormous futon that she had been given, snug beneath layers upon layers of covers.

She woke into the darkness gasping when a clawed, rough hand closed over her neck and hauled her upright. Izayoi saw the blur of motion, the whiteness of long hair and clothes. She gagged and gasped, unable to breathe. She scratched frantically at the wrist and hand that had closed her throat. Dimly, through her panicked, oxygen-starved brain, Izayoi recognized the elegant, beautiful face glaring at her through the blackness.

It was Sesshomaru.

"Human," he said with a chill to his tone. "You do not have the authority to order about this Sesshomaru."

He released her, dropping her from the vantage of his full, extensive height. Izayoi coughed and gasped, sucking at the air, refilling her lungs. She whimpered and cried, holding herself by wrapping her arms around her legs.

From above Sesshomaru commanded, "Tell your secret or I shall make you regret being born."

Izayoi's long, ratty hair spilled all around her. She rocked back and forth while she tried to gain control of her internal frenzy to answer him. "I'm so—sorry…"

"Speak," Sesshomaru ordered. "Now."

"Lady Shiroihana is cheating! His name is Ko—kosho…"

"Silence," Sesshomaru said, cutting her off.

In the quiet that followed Izayoi's little shuddering cries echoed in the room. Finally Sesshomaru broke it. "Human—promise that you will not reveal this to any other. In return I will spare your life."

"I promise!" Izayoi shrieked. She hardly registered his demand and would have agreed to almost anything he suggested. She would have agreed to marry one of the geckos if Sesshomaru had asked.

"Very well," Sesshomaru said, returning to his dispassionate monotone. "If you break the promise this Sesshomaru will kill you. Do you understand?"

"Yes!" Izayoi yelled.

"Every time Lord Koshoshiro visits girl you will write to this Sesshomaru and report it. You will also write about anything else that Lady Shiroihana does that seems unseemly or that you believe this Sesshomaru may find useful or important. Do you understand?"

Now Izayoi registered the oddness of the request. "Write to you?" she asked.

There was a pause and then Sesshomaru inclined his head slightly. "Yes."

Izayoi was shaking, aware that something was amiss. She realized that she was playing a detailed and dangerous game—and she did not know any of the rules. She had assumed that writing to Sesshomaru was safer than approaching Inutaisho directly. Sesshomaru had been the one to take Takemaru away, so she assumed he would be the one to take her as well. What had she done wrong? She knew Sesshomaru and Shiroihana were at odds, fighting. The entire demon family was split, torn, sick and rotting from within.

She was not yet 12 but Izayoi knew in her bones that she had to play very carefully. She had previously thought of these demons as being mostly harmless. Now she saw they could be as unpredictable as a summertime storm. Not even elders could always anticipate the typhoons that would ruin the crops and tear down homes. And Izayoi was _not_ an elder.

Shaking, Izayoi changed positions, getting onto her hands and knees to bow low before Sesshomaru. "I'm your humble servant Lord Sesshomaru."

"You are a spy," Sesshomaru said, correctively. He paused and then said, "You must understand that if Lady Shiroihana learns what you are doing—she will kill you. If you are loyal this Sesshomaru will protect you from her—but if you are careless or break your promise, this Sesshomaru will kill you. Do you understand?"

Izayoi was still bowing. "Yes, sir!"

When she looked up again Sesshomaru was gone. She saw him in the palace the following day and heard him speaking with his mother casually, nonchalantly. Apparently Sesshomaru had come ostensibly to visit with his mother, a social call of sorts. Shiroihana chatted to the silent, melancholy Izayoi about Sesshomaru in the bath and while the little girl combed and oiled Shiroihana's hair. Sesshomaru had disguised his true reason for being there very well, but Izayoi knew she had no hope of escaping the task he had forced on her and he would never take her away to Nejiro now.

* * *

Fall came and with it the anniversary of another year passed in Izayoi's life. She was twelve and days passed gruelingly, despairingly. Takemaru's letters became difficult to read. Izayoi struggled to learn from them, practicing unfamiliar characters in moments of free time.

Those carefree times were vanishing faster and faster. Shiroihana had begun recklessly ordering Izayoi about as a laborer and maid. Izayoi started accompanying the monkeys down to the laundry room and scrubbing the rich, thick kimonos that Shiroihana wore, as well as every other item of clothing that every other resident of the palace wore. The water was first freezing until her hands were numb, then scalding until they nearly blistered. The monkeys that had been working there the longest had aged hands, scarred and gnarled. Izayoi saw their fingers and cried into the washbasins.

There was also dishwashing, bed-making and changing, sweeping the long stairs in front of the palace that marched up the mountainside, and buffing the hardwood floors. In the depths of winter she had to clear the terraces of built up snow and ice, and in the spring she had to clear the stairs in front of the palace to prepare for the first messengers and visitors.

In one of the strangest menial chores of all, Shiroihana showed Izayoi a specific herb that grew on the mountainside and the forests below. She instructed Izayoi to find and gather it over the course of several weeks in late spring and summer. This job was pleasanter than the others. It gave Izayoi the freedom to run and skip, to roll in the grass, to eat leftover snow that had stubbornly refused to melt away. She could smell springtime blossoms and pick pinecones in the summer. But at the end of each day she had to carry a large burlap sack up the long stairway of Kagetsu palace and deliver it to Shiroihana.

Koshoshiro visited randomly through the summer. Izayoi recorded the date each time and wrote it in notes that she sent directly to Sesshomaruk, no longer bothering to send them with letters to Takemaru. It was another chore to attend to, but it troubled her. Why would Sesshomaru want to spy on Shiroihana, but not stop the infidelity? And what of Inutaisho in all this? Inutaisho became the biggest mystery for Izayoi. Where was he? Why didn't he visit his wife more often? Inutaisho came to visit only rarely, once in a season, and it was almost always announced. More often Sesshomaru came to visit instead of Inutaisho. Izayoi remembered him constantly with fondness, though she had not spoken with him now in years.

Another fall gave way to winter and Izayoi turned 13. The winter was a harsh one, brutal. Even Izayoi shivered at night beneath her layers of thick covers. The geckos, as coldblooded creatures, were sluggish throughout the winter. Izayoi was stuck enduring many of their duties when they were hampered by the cold. She hauled water in buckets, set the fires to heat them, and carried trays with tea and food on them. Izayoi grew lean and strong as work hardened and shaped her young body, and while puberty continued to sculpt her like clay under the potter's hands. There were stretch marks on her hips where her form changed, becoming curvaceous.

In the evening on a day late in the springtime, Izayoi felt ill with a dull, deep ache in her lower abdomen. She went about her duties with a scowl of pain, but mere discomfort changed to shock when she went to visit the privy and saw that her undergarments had been stained with brownish blotches. The ache continued and so did the bizarre marks in her undergarments. Petrified and embarrassed, Izayoi could not understand what was happening to her. Certainly it was an illness, something she had eaten. She had thought the brown marks had to be fecal in origin—but there was no unpleasant odor.

When Izayoi at last realized that the stains started out _red_, comprehension dawned. It was worse than some strange accident—it was _blood._ She was bleeding and she had no idea from where or why.

Izayoi crawled into bed shivering in fear and anxiety. She slept through the night only to awaken with the stickiness of blood dried between her legs and stained on her futon and covers. The monkeys that woke her did not fail to notice the mess and clucked and hooted in what Izayoi knew was disapproval—but not alarm.

The monkeys had never been too bright and they were strict vegetarians, eating little meat. Perhaps they did not even know it was blood. Izayoi resisted them when they tried to make her go about her morning routine. Finally Shiroihana arrived and eased Izayoi's suffering.

"You poor creature, poor little mouse. I forgot to tell you—this is normal, for humans anyway. Poor wretches."

Izayoi had never really been grateful to Shiroihana. She'd never had much reason to be, but Shiroihana was patient and gentle with her on that day and for the first—and probably the only time—Izayoi smiled and thanked her profusely and genuinely. To know that what was happening was normal and natural made everything better. The staining, the ache in her abdomen—everything. Shiroihana showed her absorbent gauzy strips of cotton and other plants or fabrics that she could use to line her undergarments, to protect them from staining.

"I pity you," Shiroihana chattered with surprising amiableness. "Human women truly live such wretched, pathetic lives. I lived more than 100 years before I reached sexual maturity. What strange creatures you are."

After Izayoi began menstruating, a new curiosity opened up within her. It was startling, astonishing even to realize that there was a part of her body she had never seen before, never been aware of that now impacted her daily life so powerfully—at least for one week a month. She had seen books in Shiroihana's library that were more scholarly, she had even looked at them in the past, but never with any seriousness. Now she sought all of them out, trying to understand the mystery of her own changing body.

It wasn't long before she found information on it. Izayoi had difficulty reading some of it, but there were sketches and over time as Izayoi studied it whenever she could, she began to puzzle it out. She was shocked as she realized that Shiroihana had already told her a little about it during their awkward exchange in the bath years ago. Though not all of the characters were familiar, and Izayoi could not be sure without lessons, it was true that men _stabbed_ women in the place where the monthly blood came from. And it was supposed to be pleasant!

When Takemaru wrote to her only the following week after Izayoi had realized that Shiroihana's basic description of the sexual act was correct, Izayoi could not think of anything to write to him. She tried to picture the boy she had known and imagine what his private parts looked like. How could she sit still when they were married and let him _stab_ her with it? Izayoi could see nothing pleasant about it.

She left the letter unanswered for weeks before finally writing thoughtlessly about the changing seasons. But as she wrote, Izayoi was praying to herself, to whatever gods and spirits her father had said watched over her and her family.

_I don't want to get married._

She prayed for an intervention of some kind, a sign that there was hope or at least an explanation. If her body could produce blood without a wound for days without end and _that_ was normal, then perhaps there was a way that a husband _stabbing_ his wife with his private part in hers would also make sense.

When Koshoshiro visited that summer Izayoi felt even more like vomiting as she heard the sounds of their passion. She tried to imagine the act but could not. She recorded the dates and sent them in her usual shorthand notes to Sesshomaru, and as she did it, Izayoi wondered about Inutaisho. He had been kind and patient, compassionate. Izayoi could not envision herself approaching Shiroihana with her concerns and fears. Even if she had managed to find the courage, Shiroihana would lie or deceive in some manner. That was what she did—but Inutaisho had been a teacher. She guessed that although it would be awkward, the Great Lord of the Western Lands would be able to answer her straightforwardly, to allay her fears and comfort her like a parent or guardian.

But Izayoi didn't know if trying to write to Inutaisho was wise. Would it bring down Sesshomaru or Shiroihana's wrath? _But why should they care if I write to him with questions?_

_

* * *

_

As fall came in again Izayoi faced the fourteenth year of her life and started on the 6th of her time as a hostage. The weather was cooling fast. It showed all signs of being a difficult winter, but breaking the monotony of the usual flow of time was the unexpectedly late and long visit of Koshoshiro. For days the couple was locked away. Izayoi stayed busy, breezing through that hallway only to be sure that they were still together, that Koshoshiro had not left.

It was nearly a full week before Koshoshiro left. By 14 Izayoi had learned that he was the ruler of a province to the north. The Middle Lands. She had heard him talk specifically of the Nanka where he had a family there. Izayoi was amazed and relieved at the way the two dog demons carelessly let information slip while they were out of the bedroom, roaming around the palace. Those times were fairly brief in the full week that Koshoshiro visited in the late fall of that year, but it was enough to educate Izayoi on other lands, other players in this sick, bizarre game.

Koshoshiro had a daughter who would inherit his lands after him. She was waiting to be married off to some other male dog demon who had a long, difficult name. Shiroihana often complained that she wanted to see Sesshomaru married, but that he resisted. She also expressed anger that Sesshomaru favored Inutaisho over her. Shiroihana talked often about Inutaisho's lies, his deceptions. She rued the fact that she had no daughter, though Izayoi could not fathom why that was. Wasn't she happy with her heir, her son, Sesshomaru?

_If he favors Inutaisho over Shiroihana, surely I am actually spying for Inutaisho…_

With that in mind Izayoi added more details to the most recent notes before sending them off.

Koshoshiro left again and life appeared on the surface to return to normal. But it was an illusion.

While Izayoi waited on Shiroihana in the tub one morning, the demon woman abruptly asked, "Little Izayoi—which do you think is a better name. _Shizumeru_ or _Kareimori_?"

Izayoi shook her head with bafflement. "A better name for what, ma'am?"

Shiroihana grinned at her with glee that Izayoi had never seen from the monarch before. "For my daughter!"

Izayoi took in the demon woman's lean, healthy body, registering the possessive, proud hand draped over her flat belly. She stifled her reaction of shock and disapproval immediately and tried to remember the names—only to fail.

"The second one…?" she hazarded. She was too busy thinking of the way she was going to phrase this one to Sesshomaru. She did not know the character for _pregnant._

Shiroihana shook her head and sighed. She leaned backward and closed her eyes. "The first one is better."

* * *

Endnote: Izayoi's physical journey mimics my own because naturally I only have the details of my own trip through puberty to go through. Aside from just natural assumptions about puberty, general experiences, the details I supply are largely my own. Hopefully they don't seem too weird as a result! I don't like to think I was sheltered (I actually had a sex ed class in 5th grade) but apparently no one bothered to tell me all the details I needed about menstruation—like that it can look brown! Or that it lasts so long and with such a significant flow. As a child I imagined spotting…thus a girl who knows even less, like Izayoi, would be even more disturbed. And if you just stop and think about sex for a second, how weird is it really? Completely! If you hadn't grown up being told it was fun and you'd want to do it, wouldn't you be terrified?

Also I found this really interesting but in a site I stumbled onto recently I read that human females are the only ones who have really managed to break the connection between sex and reproduction. We're unique because we'll mate anytime we want, because we're not just driven to mate because we're fertile. Also, our fertility is hidden. Other animals give off a sign or even have secretions or something to announce it. Human females don't. And another uniqueness is the menstruation itself. No other mammal does it like we do. In fact most of them don't have menstruation at all. And in some primates that do it is much less pronounced. So when Shiroihana says we human women have it difficult, she's speaking for the whole mammal group. Yeah, we have it rough, but we've also turned something that originally trapped us into motherhood and made it into a social interaction and even a method of control. What better way to keep a mate around then by promising him sex any time he wants it, regardless of the woman's fertility?

Anyway, that was my attempt to be empowering for the moment.

Preview:

Some smackdown goes on between Shiroihana and Sess (also note the deja vu of some of the dialogue, you've seen it before but with Sess the brother, not the son):

_"I am your elder!" Shiroihana raged, curling her lips. "I am your mother! I am your Queen!"_

_Sesshomaru dropped the harsh formality of moments before when he snapped at her. "I am your heir," he said somberly. "I carry the bloodline. You will have an heiress."_


	18. Izayoi In Limbo

A/N: You've seen parts of this poem before and you've seen Pablo Neruda before. He is muy excellente.

In this chapter you will see Sess and Shiroihana echo sayings from earlier chapters that were primarily narrated by Shiroihana, so stuff from part 1. Look for "I carry the bloodline." And try to think back to who was saying that and when. Also "You will always have my love." These phrases mark a turning point for Shiroihana's character, but you won't see it happening in her head because this is tied mostly to Izayoi. She is a smaller player in all of this, an underestimated one. She hears all this, but does not have the slightest understanding that this is a recurring theme/event. This isn't the first time that Shiroihana has said these things to or heard them from a relative with the name Sesshomaru.

Oooo I just LOVE it when stories have circular connections!

Disclaimer: I do not own them

Last Chapter: Izayoi found out that Shiroihana was pregnant and had to tell Sess because she has been forced to act as his spy when she thought she could take advantage of the fact that Shiroihana and her lover Koshoshiro have been so obvious with their affair, disregarding her presence.

* * *

"There's No Forgetting" by Pablo Neruda (Stanza 3)

These are not memories that have passed each other  
nor the yellowing pigeon asleep in our forgetting;  
these are tearful faces  
and fingers down our throats  
and whatever among leaves falls to the ground:  
the dark of a day gone by  
grown fat on our grieving blood.

* * *

Izayoi

(Journal)

I take it back, all of it. I was scared of getting married, scared of a future as part of the Sestuna clan, but I did not ask for this. I didn't want this. This is exactly the opposite of what I wanted. I am being punished. I am a ghost, a shadow, a phantom. I will be forgotten and buried, nameless and unremembered. Nothing I have done has had any purpose. I am better off dead with them. I cannot even speak to Takemaru. He has a clan. He has a home. I am a lost ghost surrounded by mononoke. What am I supposed to do next?

* * *

**In Limbo**

The first snows had already fallen; thick and wet when Sesshomaru arrived at Kagetsu palace. Izayoi had not known what would happen when she carefully composed the latest note to Sesshomaru in a small note. She had tried filling it with detail, but could not find the right characters to spell out everything. She did not even know _pregnant. _She had to use an awkward, stupid phrase that she knew he would understand but it would probably disgust him for its lack of presentation. But Sesshomaru certainly already thought she was brainless, a slave going through her orders thoughtlessly.

She wrote _Lady Shiroihana will have a baby._ Then she made a notation of a season, spring and summer. She did not know exactly how long it took a dog demon to gestate a growing baby. It might be ten years, but Izayoi did know that a human pregnancy was only 8 or 9 months. She had seen both of her little brothers born and then the last baby that had killed her mother. Izayoi knew about pregnancy well enough.

On the afternoon that Sesshomaru arrived, a wrathful gale through the ice and snow, Izayoi was washing clothes, scrubbing and scraping with the monkeys. The water was especially chilled, bitingly cold and uncomfortable. The bones in her hands were cut through with stabbing pain from the cold. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes while Izayoi worked, gritting her teeth in the pain. Unlike the monkeys, who endured this work far better than Izayoi, the human girl had to withdraw her hands and rub them every few minutes. It made for slow, painstaking work.

Then, suddenly, the door behind them clattered open and then sprung from its track. Izayoi and the monkeys turned as one, gawking. Shiroihana was in the doorway, dressed in thick, winter formal robes. Her hair was up and polished in lobes, she had even painted her face. Izayoi had attended the demon woman that morning as usual—but as far as Izayoi had seen Shiroihana had dressed informally, uncaringly. All this formality had come later. Something had happened in between.

Shiroihana spotted Izayoi, knelt down at the washbasins with the monkeys with her too-short child's kimono tied awkwardly around her thighs so that it parted like pants. The demon woman's face was blotched with fury; her eyes had a hint of red in them. She jabbed her clawed finger at Izayoi and bellowed, "You! You little wretch! You little rat!"

The monkeys hooted and bolted, lurching away. Izayoi was slower to follow, but like them she knew that unless something intervened very quickly—someone was going to die at Shiroihana's claws.

There was a crackling sound, then the air ripped apart. There was a flash of green and Izayoi fell to the floor with a cry. She struggled, confused, unaware that Shiroihana had caught her with her green spectral whip. Her calves burned, searing. Izayoi let out a scream as fresh alarm coursed through her at the pain. She twisted around and fumbled at her legs, seeing green light and the bright red crimson of her own blood.

As abruptly as the attack had come, it ceased.

Shiroihana let out a cry, more of a roar actually. The screens shattered and cracked. Izayoi felt air push past her and cringed, curling into a ball. The monkeys hollered and whooped. Izayoi peeked between her hands as water spilled from a washbasin and splattered all over the floor.

Sesshomaru had appeared and apparently rammed Shiroihana, stopping her attack and knocking her aside with his slightly larger height and weight. Shiroihana was snarling at him, baring her teeth, wrinkling her nose and brow with animalistic ferocity. The green light flashed and the air ripped apart as the whip flew out again, but this time it was aimed at Sesshomaru. The younger dog demon countered, slashing with one hand. His claws must have disrupted Shiroihana's whip somehow. It vanished, as if it had been nothing but illusion.

Sesshomaru streaked forward. Shiroihana was pinned close to the wall. Mother and son met in a hazy frenzy of slashing, growling, and mangled cursing. The monkeys scattered, rushing for the door. Izayoi, panting and quivering with terror, stumbled after them just as Shiroihana and Sesshomaru burst through the wall of the washroom.

Izayoi ran as fast as her burning, stinging, bleeding legs would carry her. She scaled a flight of stairs in seconds, skidded through a long, airy hallway, rounded a corner and burst through the halfway open door onto the terrace. Out in the misty, cold air of late fall and early winter, Izayoi grabbed the wooden railing with its intricate, detailed carvings and hung her head over the side, crying into the white abyss beneath. Her long black hair, frizzy and tangled with her constant work and inexperience in styling it, flew in the white air like feathers.

Gradually Izayoi recovered and squatted on the terrace to examine her wounds. The spectral whip had been brutal, burning and cutting into her pale young skin. Izayoi's fingers trembled as she tentatively touched the wounds and found her fingertips returned with blood. She hugged herself and rocked, humming in a high pitch to try and fill the roar of the silent mists around her.

It was nearly dark when Izayoi at last heard the tread of feet on the terrace. She had been getting sleepy, considering slinking off to her room to sleep, regardless of whether it was safe to be in the palace or not. When she heard the approaching dog demon—it had to be one of them because the monkeys and geckos had very different, distinctive treads that were absolutely inhuman—Izayoi stood upright with her spine stiff as a steel rod. She faced the empty expanse of the darkening terrace and waited for her fate to emerge from it.

It was Sesshomaru. He halted some distance from her, far enough away that the darkness and the thickness of the air obscured details of his clothing, face, and hair. "Girl," he called. "You are wounded."

"Y-yes," Izayoi answered timidly.

"You will survive your wounds?" he asked blandly, almost with no concern at all.

Izayoi swallowed and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "Yes."

Sesshomaru inhaled slowly, a long and heavy breath. "Follow."

He turned, pivoting effortlessly, and began to stride confidently off into the dense, opaque gray of the air. Izayoi hauled herself to her feet using the wooden railing as a crutch, then lurched after him, grimacing as she felt the scabs over her calves and knees cracking and oozing with even the minor exertion. She trailed after Sesshomaru obediently, unsure of where or what awaited her.

They walked through the halls and corridors, down short flights of stairs. Izayoi left a small path of red droplets, blood that walking had jostled out of her fragile wounds. Finally they reached the bright white of the decorative winter audience room. Sesshomaru stopped abruptly, just inside the room. Izayoi could just barely peek beyond him and into the dazzling white, silver, and black of the blizzard-themed room. It had been the first place that had received her into Kagetsu palace and her life as a hostage. Would it be the last one she saw as well?

"Sesshomaru," Shiroihana said in a heavy, cracking voice. "You are cruel beyond words."

"As are you, Mother."

Shiroihana scoffed, snorting violently, then her clothes rustled and she walked just into the narrow crack that Izayoi had of the audience room with its pale floor matting and raised greeting platform. The demon woman was quivering, her eyes were wide and wild as Izayoi had never seen before. Tears beaded at the edges of her eyes.

"You know above all others why I did it. I have no choice. _You_, you and _him_, you both forced me to do this." Shiroihana was not close enough to touch Sesshomaru, but she did jab her pointed, clawed finger at him as if she intended to poke him in the chest. "You won't give me granddaughters for the Kosetsu. And _he_ can't give me _anything_. He killed your namesake! He killed my brother!"

"This Sesshomaru does not tolerate betrayal. This Sesshomaru does not accept _competition_." Izayoi saw Sesshomaru jerk his chin, lifting it up a little.

"I am your elder!" Shiroihana raged, curling her lips. "I am your _mother!_ I am your _Queen!_"

Sesshomaru dropped the harsh formality of moments before when he snapped at her. "I am your heir," he said somberly. "I carry the bloodline. You will have an heiress."

Something changed in Shiroihana. Her face slackened, the fury and desperation fled out of her. Suddenly her chin wrinkled and her jaw squared. She turned away, fighting with her emotions. She spoke quietly, almost whispering below what Izayoi could hear. "We are as ants to Fate."

Izayoi had heard the expression before but hardly had the energy to consider where or when. She stared down at her calves, at the rawness of her wounds and bit her lip, shivering. Her hands were pale like snow, her kimono thin and still tied up around her legs for working.

"This Sesshomaru has been patient and generous, but Mother's recklessness and selfishness could no longer be ignored. You may shame yourself with Koshoshiro, but what you do now shames _me."_

"So you set that little brat to spy on me?" Shiroihana asked bitterly. Her back was still turned on her son and Izayoi.

"Mother's indiscretions were clear even to the human girl. This Sesshomaru's intention was only to…observe." Sesshomaru was cool and calm, serenely untouched by the emotional turmoil of the situation. Shiroihana had clearly lost their fight though neither of demon showed any obvious marks.

Shiroihana sighed. "I am…indebted to you, Sesshomaru." She paused and then, with urgency, asked, "You do understand why I did it?"

"Mother is impatient to see Father punished and to see that the Kosetsu continues its line of female inheritance. Mother did not consider that this Sesshomaru must also concern himself with the entirety of the Western Lands."

Izayoi registered Sesshomaru's words with a dull, distracted alarm. _Father punished? But that would mean…_

Shiroihana's shoulders shook and she let out a small, vulnerable whimper. "I have missed you, Sesshomaru. You will always have my love—but do I have your loyalty?" She turned around to face Sesshomaru and swiped impatiently at her tears, erasing the moment of vulnerability as she regained her control. "Reaffirm your allegiance to me first and foremost, to your great and one true destiny, Sesshomaru. Swear that you will remember the Kosetsu's Queens and make a daughter, a true heiress to replace me."

"Mother…" Sesshomaru started but stopped as Shiroihana interrupted him.

"Do that and I will obey you unquestionably, Sesshomaru. We will work as one. I will support you in everything. I will never betray you like this again. I have only one child, one heir." Her golden eyes roved over Sesshomaru, oblivious to the human girl just behind her son, listening to every word. "I will even reunite with your father if it is your wish. I will never see Koshoshiro again."

"On one condition," Sesshomaru said stuffily.

"What?" Shiroihana asked, shaking her head almost in bafflement.

"Your title will change. You will no longer be _queen._ You will only be Lady Shiroihana, Chichiue's wife and this Sesshomaru's mother."

Shiroihana's jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed slightly. "Fine. I accept. But I am still the Lady of the Kosetsu."

Sesshomaru nodded curtly. "Agreed."

"And you will not tell your father about any of this?" Shiroihana demanded.

"There is no need—it will not happen again." Sesshomaru strode forward and Shiroihana backpedaled slightly. Mother and son met up, touching tentatively while Izayoi watched, befuddled as her mind and expression twisted with pain.

Sesshomaru and Shiroihana were so much alike, cast in the same colors, the sharp, cruel lines of brilliance. Even the purplish crescent moons on their foreheads. Izayoi strained her brain to recall Inutaisho's features, the same amber as Shiroihana and Sesshomaru, but lacking the crescent moon and the color of the cheek markings. She thought of one of the poetic lines she had written to Takemaru over the years, a favorite personal expression for Izayoi: _I am like a single grain of rice spilled from the bowl._

She wondered what Inutaisho was doing while his son and his estranged, cheating wife were reconnecting and plotting against him.

* * *

Sesshomaru and Shiroihana had made some arrangements to meet in the spring to reaffirm their loyalties, to seal their allegiances formally. That left Shiroihana all of the winter to "recover." Izayoi had no idea exactly what that meant, or what any of it meant really. The pain of her wounded legs was distracting and her jaw ached from clenching it with pain. When she at last left Kagetsu palace, Izayoi was so exhausted that she could barely keep up with the stoic, stately dog demon. They did not make two miles before Sesshomaru stopped, allowing Izayoi to pass out on the cold ground.

There was snow, hard and crusty from bouts of partial melting and then refreezing at night. The touch of it was painful enough to jolt Izayoi out of her exhausted stupor. She shivered and moaned as joints locked up in the wet chill, and muscles seized. Her wounds burned. She lied helplessly for some time before Sesshomaru appeared, looming over her ethereally and distant as the clouds that skid over the light of the setting sun.

She barely registered the young lord as he shifted and when he picked her up, awkwardly, Izayoi let out a small yelp. She found herself swaddled in his outer haori, which was predominantly white. Izayoi's mind was unclear, foggy. The whiteness of the haori made her think of the snow and she pawed at it, baffled at its sudden transformation from cold and wet to warm and dry. But soon the rhythmic motion of Sesshomaru's walking set her adrift into the deeps of her unconscious mind.

The next time she came awake it was violent and excruciating. Izayoi gagged and felt herself floating, weightless. Then gravity reasserted itself and she dropped. Gritty dirt and gravel grated into her palms, tearing into her. Izayoi's body heaved as her stomach turned itself inside out. She blinked down at the little puddle of stomach acids and bile and grimaced, crying as her body shook convulsively around her.

The cool, impassive voice of Sesshomaru rose up just behind her. "Welcome to Nejiro Castle, human." He was anything but comforting, welcoming. "You are ill," he observed. "You may have been poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Izayoi asked, choking on the word. Her head throbbed, along with every other part of her body, inside and out.

"Get up," Sesshomaru ordered her.

Dazed and weak, Izayoi did not move fast enough for him and a moment later she cried out as Sesshomaru hauled her up by the arm and halfway dragged her forward. Her feet were bare and scratched along dirt and icy, crusted snow.

Izayoi only noticed the massive wall and gate that Sesshomaru lugged her through. She saw and sensed movement as servants admitted them and shouted, announcing Sesshomaru's arrival. It was dark outside. Izayoi's internal sense of time was skewed, clearly confused. The last she remembered had been the forest and the mountain surrounding the Kagetsu palace. But they had obviously traveled since then. How long had she been asleep?

She felt dizzy and nauseous at the unanswerable question.

And then, almost by chance, her head lolled and her eyes rose, and Izayoi saw Nejiro castle for the first time.

It rose into the air, high and stately, like a cliff prevailing over the seas. The shape of the eaves made Izayoi think of wings, of birds ready to take flight. Of freedom. In the darkness she could not see the color, only height and some of the architecture, but it was marvelous and even through her pained, hazy mental state, Izayoi held her breath with wonder and relief. It did not matter that she felt like puking again, or that her head ached and her wounds burned.

She began to cry with gratitude to the cold, brusque young dog demon. Even though she knew he had not brought her to Nejiro for any other reason than to keep her alive and out of Shiroihana's clutches, Izayoi would have embraced him if she had possessed the strength.

They crossed an enormous stretch of grass and decorative gardens. In the thin, sickly moonlight Izayoi saw that the decorative cherry and maple trees still carried their leaves in full splendor. They should have shed them long ago. The air was thin, Izayoi knew she was in the mountains and around Kagetsu palace the few deciduous trees had lost their leaves early in the season. It was as good as winter now and these trees had kept their leafy finery.

There was something magical, ethereal about Nejiro, just as Kagetsu had been too, but there was a different aura. It was Inutaisho's power, his influence over this castle that made it so similar but so vastly different as well. Izayoi began shivering.

They ascended a long stairway. A servant rushed out to them, galloping down the stairs with experience, evading the spots where snow or ice had collected. Izayoi stumbled on a step when she saw that this servant was not a monkey or a gecko—he was human.

"Lord Sesshomaru," the human said, bowing deeply. He was not much older than Izayoi, barely a man.

Sesshomaru did not pause to address the servant. "Alert Chichiue that this Sesshomaru requests his assistance immediately."

Dimly, absently, Izayoi wondered if Sesshomaru was being rude to ask Inutaisho to come _immediately._ Her mind flicked back to the conversation she had overheard between mother and son. Shiroihana wanted Inutaisho punished, and Sesshomaru did not seem particularly surprised or concerned with that. In fact he wanted to help with it.

They entered the castle where they were sheltered, out of the cold night air. Inside a large foyer an old woman knelt and washed Izayoi's dirty feet while Sesshomaru held her upright. Izayoi sagged in his grasp, her legs and arms trembled.

She faded in and out, sometimes snapping into a lucid state where she took in the woodwork of the castle floors and walls, of the alternatively brilliantly decorative detail on screens, doors, and walls, then of simpler, understated styles that spoke of quiet grace and confidence. Most of Izayoi's time was spent retreating inward, trying to escape the outer world with its agony. Her head drooped and her legs were mostly limp. Her body was little more than a sack, a burden that Sesshomaru carted along beside him.

She was not alert enough to register the moment when Sesshomaru met with Inutaisho and her body changed places between them, like currency. Her next perception was of the moment when the back of her head thumped lightly on the cushiony surface of a futon and she opened her eyes blearily, staring up and out at a dark, blurry world. Izayoi saw a pale figure, wreathed in white by his fair hair. Flecks of bright gold stood out, reflecting the limited light around them. The markings over his cheeks were vastly different from Sesshomaru and Shiroihana. They were purple-blue and jagged like lightning.

Izayoi recognized him and tried to smile, tried to speak—but her mind seemed to be severed from her body. And she was too weak to continue persisting. Izayoi fell back into the darkness.

* * *

For weeks Izayoi hovered between life and death. The fever of poison from Shiroihana was intense, but aimed more at making her suffer than actually killing her. The poison of the inuyoukai was especially painful and toxic, but it often reflected the user's intent. Shiroihana had probably purposely chosen to punish Izayoi with poison via the touch of her whip, but her intention had not been to kill the girl—at least not with venom.

The secondary illness was of course from Izayoi's wounds. Her legs were burned, leaving her in agony and bedridden. Mild fevers—likely associated with infection—ravaged her, keeping Izayoi constantly weak. Inutaisho assigned servants to care for Izayoi, all of them human women who comforted her and praised her for her bravery.

When Izayoi had enough strength to sit up and risk walking about her new room for the first time, she took in the violent, raw red of jagged slashes on her legs—newly formed scars. She cried with horror at the sight and the maids consoled her, hugging her and promising that the marks would lighten up, that they would see to it that special salves were applied twice daily. They would bring her long kimono robes, the kind worn by princesses and nobility. They reassured Izayoi that she was so beautiful that no one would notice her legs.

At first Izayoi was bitter, angry at what had happened. She had done nothing wrong, in fact she had performed admirably. She had been as good as Shiroihana's slave, tolerated her mistreatment and teasing, and she had obeyed Sesshomaru unquestionably. Izayoi longed for her father, for her village, and for her mother and deceased brothers. At night she dreamt that her mother and brothers called to her from a land that was washed out and gray. They sang sadly, a ballad about a woman who loved a god and died for him. They wanted her to shed the weight of her body and join them. It would not be hard—Izayoi's body was wizened, her muscles wasting with disuse. If her will gave out there would be little left to drive her to recover. There seemed nothing to look forward to: she was a hostage amongst nonhuman beasts, she was betrothed to a boy she had not seen in years now, and even marriage would not reunite her with her beloved father, instead it would only force her into a life as a sexual toy and reproductive tool of her husband.

It was not much of a future, as Shiroihana had often said. As much as Izayoi despised the dog demon woman, she suspected that she was more than a little right.

But then the maids brought Izayoi the first full, brilliantly woven winter kimono. The color of it—with the blinding blue of a clear blue sky and the white and silver of snow drifts and wind—astounded Izayoi and brought a full smile to her lips. She forgot her misery and embraced eagerness and joy as she put it on. The rich fabric was as welcome as her father's arms. The maids grinned at her with genuine warmth and affection as they tied it with a gold and black obi.

It was excruciating at first, but Izayoi forced herself to walk about her room and then venture into the hallway. She gradually strengthened her muscles while learning her way around Nejiro castle. It was newer than Kagetsu and had a simpler, less ornate style. It was less overwhelming to Izayoi, softer and more human. It felt more like home.

It was midwinter when Izayoi was at last well enough to go to the lessons that the maids told her Inutaisho had scheduled. Izayoi was bubbly with anticipation, certain that she would sit down in the small study room and find Inutaisho as her teacher. Instead she found an old man with a gray, limp beard that waggled as he talked. It was distracting and amusing to watch as it jiggled like a worm at the end of a fishing lure—but it was not enough to banish Izayoi's disappointment that Inutaisho had not been her teacher.

The old man's name was Yosuda and he was pleasant and patient and did not mind sharing his great intelligence with a young girl. He clucked with disapproval when he saw how poorly she handled a brush and how little she knew.

"Didn't Lady Shiroihana have an instructor for you?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in bafflement.

Izayoi was holding her brush awkwardly, trying to keep it from dripping rich, black ink onto the rice paper sitting in front of her on the desk. She shook her head absently. She didn't bother explaining that Shiroihana herself had attempted to teach her as little more than a joke.

"How unfortunate," Yosuda muttered, sighing. "At your age it will be difficult to learn everything. You will never catch up to young Lord Takemaru before you're married. I don't suppose Lady Shiroihana taught you any of the traditional arts?"

"What are those?"

Yosuda's shoulders rose and fell with a little huff. "I see. Well then, I will suggest that Lord Inutaisho hire someone to teach you anything that I cannot. As any proper lady you must know how to write poetry, you must be able to paint. You must be taught how to cook, how to use herbs properly as any wife would."

So it was that only a week or so later Izayoi found her days even busier with a variety of specialist studies. She struggled to paint, finding it too frustrating, but dove into the cooking and herbal lessons with gusto.

In all of this time, Izayoi had not yet run across Takemaru for more than an instant. The first time she had seen him she hadn't recognized him. It was in the afternoon, after Izayoi's lesson in writing and math with Yosuda. She was scurrying down the long hallway, looking for the privy before she would hurry to her lesson on cooking, when a door slid open and a young man stepped into view.

Takemaru had grown like a weed, towering over her. His face had leaned out only slightly and there was no sign of facial hair, but it was easy to see the man he would become, strong and handsome—and overbearing, distant with haughty reserve. Yet his eyes widened when he saw her, too. He had not forgotten her.

"Takemaru?" Izayoi called, letting her mouth fall open in astonishment.

The boy opened his mouth, about to reply, but then from inside the room a male voice yelled for Takemaru and obediently, stiffly, Takemaru whipped around and disappeared back inside. In the hallway alone Izayoi paused, listening to the steady clacking and thumping sounds that emerged from inside the room. She realized that she had seen men dressed in the same hakama and loose haori as a child in the village. They usually wore it while practicing martial arts or swordplay, or making the air sing with old dried bamboo poles that they twirled and slashed with.

Izayoi made an effort to linger in the hallways around the room where she had first seen Takemaru, but although she often heard the sounds of him fighting, she did not see him again soon. When maids were with her they shepherded Izayoi away from certain hallways and levels of the castle until Izayoi finally asked one of them, an older but friendly maid why and what they were avoiding.

"Those are the men's quarters," she replied blandly. "Lord Inutaisho has passed don orders that he wants you to remain segregated from them."

"What?" Izayoi blurted, frowning confusedly. "From who? Is Takemaru down there?"

The maid nodded, smiling faintly. "Lord Inutaisho understands humans a little too well."

"What do you mean?" Izayoi demanded, growing impatient. She had never been corralled of controlled in the Kagetsu palace and felt mildly offended. Surely Inutaisho didn't understand _her_ if he thought she was untrustworthy.

"Lord Inutaisho wants you to preserve your innocence," the maid said, smirking.

Izayoi felt an unusual spurt of irritation at the maid and at Inutaisho. _If he wanted to do that he should have never left me with Shiroihana. _

_

* * *

_

One morning in late winter the first hint of spring rushed in through the decorative courtyards and gardens of Nejiro castle. The breeze smelled heavily of dampness, of melting snows. Izayoi had just finished her bath and was sitting in her under robe with a young maid by the name of Etsuko when a massive shape moved into the open doorway of the women's dressing room. Izayoi perceived the shadow first as it fell over some of the bronzed and silvered mirrors, then saw the outline of the great and mighty creature in them as well.

Etsuko let out a little gasp and dropped into a clumsy bow. Izayoi turned and did the same, managing to be only a little more graceful than Etsuko in her nervousness. She was in her under robe—it was not highly improper, but it was a little unseemly. "Lord Inutaisho!" she yelped with surprise and glee.

Etsuko had been helping Izayoi comb out and then style her hair properly when Inutaisho made his sudden appearance. Now it fell around her, spilling forward over her shoulders in a thick black wave like ink spilling from a bottle. Izayoi's face burned with embarrassment.

"Lady Miyabita," Inutaisho greeted her. "And Etsuko."

"My lord," Etsuko murmured, shaking slightly. She remained low to the ground, flattened.

Izayoi was impressed and astonished that Inutaisho knew Etsuko's name too. Even after she had not seen him for years, Inutaisho could recall her name and still spoke with the same warmth and tenderness, like a father. She had learned very early that he was different, unique among the other dog demons. It was comforting to realize that he had not changed…

"Sit up, both of you," Inutaisho told them. As they obeyed, Inutaisho shifted and the floorboards and matting wheezed and whined beneath him. "I'm sorry to alarm you this early in the morning, but I wanted to check in on your health, Lady Miyabita. I am told you've recovered remarkably fast."

"I'm well. I'm…" she paused, searching for the proper words. "…much happier and healthier in Nejiro castle, Lord Inutaisho."

She snuck quick glances at him as the dog demon nodded. His lips were expressive when he didn't hold them together tightly. Between them his white teeth glinted. "If you can forgive my asking this difficult question," Inutaisho began with a note of hesitancy in his voice, "could you please let me see your legs? I would like to ascertain how they've healed for myself."

Izayoi blinked, baffled and mildly uncomfortable. Etsuko had stiffened and seemed to be holding her breath, as if Inutaisho would attack them both at any moment. Izayoi was not unsure of Inutaisho in any way, and not afraid of him in the least—but she didn't want anyone to see her scars. And yet she could hardly refuse the Lord of the Western Lands.

Silently, Izayoi stood and lifted the hem of the under robe to fully expose her upper calves and knees where they had been slashed by Shiroihana's whip. The red streaks, puckered welts over Izayoi's young, otherwise spotless legs, were enough to make Inutaisho's eyes flicker, darting away for the faintest microseconds. But after the initial reaction passed, Inutaisho's gaze narrowed and focused, hips lips hardened, tightening down on themselves.

"It was a grave wound—we are lucky to have the continued honor of Lady Miyabita's presence with us."

Inutaisho's pleasantness, almost flattery, and his informal speech, overwhelmed Izayoi. Her eyes filled with tears and she wiped at them with annoyance, dropping the hem of her under robe and sitting again to cover her legs from all view. She murmured a quiet thank you but her lack of enthusiasm hardly matched Inutaisho's huge compliment.

"I will continue sending the salves to treat the scars," Inutaisho said, a little more curtly, snapping into a more businesslike demeanor. "Also I feel it would be wise for you and your betrothed to spend time together."

"Yes," Izayoi murmured though she couldn't quite conjure up the energy and genuineness to give the positive answer any force.

Inutaisho did not miss her dourness. He lingered, watching her for a time, then gave a little nod. "Have a good day, Lady Miyabita."

Izayoi listened to his footsteps plodding over the hardwood floor, contemplating what she considered as her own dark, uncertain future—the scars on her legs, Takemaru who she barely knew anymore, her own fear of marriage, and ultimately the fact that she would never be the happy, sweet child that had lived with the Miyabita, with her father, mother, and brothers…

But then a new thought struck her, as hard as a bamboo pole to the side of the head. Inutaisho, the great, ethereal, age defying dog demon was pitiable too. What family did he have? His wife and son were plotting against him and he had no idea of it. How ironic that the Lord of the great Western Lands, the triumphant warrior of the panther wars, was actually powerless within his own family.

Etsuko set to work on Izayoi's hair again, muttering quietly about how dog demons frightened her; unnerving her with their white hair and extreme heights…they made her skin crawl! Izayoi barely listened, her mindset had changed rapidly, growing outward and refocusing. How could she have been so selfish to pout because of the lost past and the uncertain future? No future was ever certain, only fools failed to realized that, and at least Izayoi had known familial happiness, she had known love and peace.

She could not stop wondering if Inutaisho, who was so patient and kind for an immortal mononoke, had ever shared a similar experience.

* * *

Izayoi began sharing her meals with Takemaru, as well as her lessons with Yosuda. They were never alone together for more than a few short minutes, even at meals. Maids and servants came and went, Yosuda was constantly instructing one or the other on this or that. They were not allowed to head to the privy together and had staggered bath times to completely avoid one another.

Izayoi understood that the segregation was to avoid _sex._ One of the maids had said that Inutaisho understood humans. Izayoi didn't think he did—not as well as he thought he did, anyway. He certainly didn't understand that Takemaru and Izayoi were as awkward as one-winged flies. They barely had more than a few basic greetings to offer one another. They smiled cordially, but Takemaru was clearly embarrassed, shy. He had been braver as a child, but still remote. Now he was overly aware that the girl that he sat beside while eating and learning would one day be his wife.

The biggest change that Izayoi could see in Takemar, aside from his rapid physical growth and development, was that he had become articulate and clearly spoken. He paused to think before speaking, gathering his thoughts, and then when he was prepared, would answer a difficult question from Yosuda. Izayoi meanwhile was given to rapid outbursts that only at times were as clear as Yosuda and other instructors would have liked. Their positions had reversed from childhood. Izayoi now lagged behind Takemaru and found the lessons frustrating as she watched Takemaru easily grasping and excelling at them.

She found herself staring at the screens, closed and shuttered against the wintry chill outside, filled with longing for freedom—for spring and summer.

* * *

The snow had not yet completely melted away when messengers arrived, slipping through the clogged mountain passages. They were foxes, the consummate news-carriers and rumor spreaders. Foxes preferred not to be very active or far-ranging in the depths of wintertime—it was difficult even for them to traverse blinding snowstorms and bone-numbing cold—but as the season waned they resumed activity quickly. Typically the earlier a fox arrived in the season the more important the news it carried with it.

Izayoi knew nothing about the broader network of foxes, of spies and the money that fueled whispers of information and secrets. The only thing that Izayoi knew was that a fox had regularly crossed between Nejiro and Kagetsu with mail and news. Izayoi had never thought to suspect him of tampering with her letters or peeping at her messages, she was too young to grasp the depths of such intrigue. However, before the snow had vanished, news of disaster reached Izayoi by way of the kitsune network and changed her life—and her future—forever.

It was early evening and the sun was low, piercingly orange as it burst through the halfway opened shutters. The air had a heavy wet scent that filled Izayoi with joy. It would truly be spring soon! Izayoi let her eyes drift shut and conjured up memories of her now-distant childhood, of the village where she had played in the dirt as a toddler, and chased butterflies with her brothers and friends. She had seen dragonflies' wings glittering bright as water in the sunlight, heard the swish and sigh of trees as their leaves caught the wind…

Suddenly a maid was kneeling beside her, tugging on her sleeve, calling her name. Izayoi noted the young woman's urgency and as she got up to follow her dread replaced the mounting joy of fond memories.

Izayoi soon found herself sitting in an austere audience room, bowing before Inutaisho and Sesshomaru. She saw their knees, shrouded in white hakama, the splashes of color in their sashes and the simple designs on their haori. This audience room was dim and simple compared to the splendor of the rooms in Kagetsu palace. Normally it pleased Izayoi more, drew her focus strictly to Inutaisho and his son on the hosting platform.

But now she sensed despair hanging like cobwebs in the corners of the room, ready to pounce inward.

"Sit up," Inutaisho ordered. His voice was even softer than usual, tainted with something.

Izayoi obeyed and gazed up at both dog demons with hesitant, cautious curiosity. She noticed that Sesshomaru's jaw was squared, as was Inutaisho's. Side by side on the platform together the dog demons did indeed resemble one another. It was apparent in that moment that they were father and son, but Izayoi knew that Sesshomaru sat in the audience room physically but worked very hard to maintain a significant mental distance.

"Miyabita Izayoi," Inutaisho spoke, breaking the heavy weight of the silence. He stared at Izayoi directly with pinched eyes that hinted at difficulty. "I have summoned you here today to give you some very disheartening news. Word has come from the Setsuna clan in your home province, the Takeyabu that a scourge of youkai descended on the Miyabita clan." He paused and inclined his head slowly. "Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Izayoi shook her head rapidly. "What? A scourge?" Her voice was thin, quiet.

Inutaisho shifted, uncomfortable with delivering such awful news to one so young and innocent. "A hoard of demons. It is not clear to me or to anyone exactly what has happened yet." He turned his eyes from her slightly, focusing just behind Izayoi now rather than right at her as comprehension began to dawn in the young girl's face. "There are very few survivors and the Setsuna clan has adopted them."

"Is my father all right?" Izayoi demanded, interrupting Inutaisho.

On the platform, Sesshomaru's head moved sharply, as if the piercing insistence of Izayoi's voice had broken through whatever illusion of distance that he'd had. Seeing it, Izayoi had a flash of insight, a terrifying idea that at once became a realization. _Sesshomaru wasn't surprised to hear about this. _His remoteness was even more than usual possibly. There was something not quite right about all of it.

Tears leapt into Izayoi's eyes, her mouth twisted downward. Her little body, still gauntly thin from her bout of illness and suffering, quivered.

"I'm afraid I do not know whether any of your family specifically have survived the massacre," Inutaisho said. "But there were many deaths. The Miyabita clan was all but wiped out." Inutaisho let out a long, low sigh. "I am deeply sorry, Lady Izayoi."

Izayoi was shaking, glaring for a long time at Sesshomaru before she wrenched her eyes away, burying the desire to shout and scream at him. _You know what happened. I can see it!_

"Chichiue," Sesshomaru said, looking to his father solemnly. "What is to become of her? what of the arrangement with the Takeyabu province?"

Inutaisho waved a hand dismissively. "It is far too early to know anything. We'll worry about that later. For now I'm more concerned with Lady izayoi's health and state of being. This is horrible news. I am sickened that I must deliver it, but I felt there was no reason to deceive you."

"What happened to my father?" Izayoi shouted, weeping. "What happened to my clan?"

Inutaisho rose to his feet and stepped off the platform, moving toward the girl. He laid his hand over the top of her head and then stooped slightly to squeeze her shoulder. "Stay strong, Lady Izayoi. I have not forgotten about the Takeyabu province. The Lord of the Western Lands cares about all of those he governs and rules over. I shall uncover who is responsible for your loss and punish them accordingly—their deaths in return for the deaths they have caused."

Izayoi was only dimly aware of the great kindness of his words. The world had clouded for her, obscured by her tears. She was dizzy as she sobbed, rapidly inhaling until she was close to passing out.

"Maid," Inutaisho called. "Please take Lady Izayoi away and see to it that she is well-cared for. Give her a sedative to help her sleep and take her somewhere she can pray and mourn her loss appropriately."

The maid strode forward as Inutaisho left, walking back to the platform to reseat himself beside Sesshomaru. His stride was heavy and hard on the floor. Izayoi could feel its power through the soles of her feet.

Before she had even left the room, Izayoi heard Sesshomaru speaking behind her. "Surely it is a waste of Chichiue's time to undertake a pointless mission for the sake of mere humans. Clans often die at the hands of random, hungry youkai."

"Hush," Inutaisho snapped, raising his voice. "Your lack of compassion is despicable, Sesshomaru." Izayoi could hear his outburst clearly even as the maid slid the door of the audience room closed behind them and began to lead the shaky, dizzy Izayoi still sobbing down the long corridor.

* * *

gotta go play starcraft II beta with my fiance!


	19. Izayoi's Protectors

A/N: I'm actually wringing my brain out, trying to put together vital elements of this story. Like my number 1 question is—how old is Izayoi when we see her at Inuyasha's birth? If I knew I could mold the story's events around them. It's funny that often with writing, having rules actually inspires creativity. Weird, eh? I keep thinking she has to be at least 20, but that would be old for Feudal Era Japanese women to be having a first child. I have of course created a unique position for Izayoi here as a hostage and representing a clan that is extinct. That could mean she remains unmarried and separate from humans for a long, long time. However, 20 still seems old to me for her time period. Just look at Sango. I don't know what age she is supposed to be exactly, but if I'm not mistaken don't Kagome and Sango call each other familiar terms that mean they are roughly equivocal in age. If that's the case, Kagome is 14 or 15 or so and that would mean Sango is similarly aged, and for her it is perfectly acceptable to marry Miroku at that age. For us it's pretty early. So basically Izayoi must act and mature much faster than we would expect her to with the time period and her unique circumstances.

But I over-think everything!

Disclaimer: Don't own them

* * *

Last Chapter: Sess attacked Shiroihana for her pregnancy. Shiroihana took out some of her rage on Izayoi, injuring and scarring the young girl's legs, nearly killing her. Sess and Shiroihana reaffirmed their allegiances; in essence Shiroihana swore to be "good" to "behave" for Sesshomaru's sake. But underneath it she is actually trading this "good behavior" for Sess's allegiance, for the promise that eventually Sess will kill his father and will of course give her heiresses for the Kosetsu. Izayoi overheard most of this but has not revealed it. After recovering at Nejiro she started learning again with Yosuda and has briefly mingled with Takemaru, but he is even more awkward and aloof than he was as a child. Inutaisho expressed concern for her scarred legs and was kind, as usual. Lastly, as soon as the snow had melted enough for messengers, Inutaisho told Izayoi that her clan had been killed by a "scourge" of youkai, seemingly random. He promised that he would avenge them for her. Izayoi meanwhile has her own belief about the "randomness" of the demons that attacked her clan—she blames Sesshomaru and Shiroihana.

* * *

"A Girl" by Ezra Pound (Ending Stanza)

Tree you are,  
Moss you are,  
You are violets with wind above them.  
A child - so high - you are,  
And all this is folly to the world.

* * *

Izayoi  
(Journal)

I am the single grain of rice, spilled from the bowl. I am the last leaf that falls in autumn. I am the first fern shoot that breaks through the ice in early spring. I am the fish that has no fins. I am the ant that has no nest. I am the bird that has no feathers. I am the songbird who has forgotten its song.

Mother, Father. Brothers. What do you think when you see me from paradise? Do I make you ashamed? Am I as unnatural as Takemaru says?

* * *

**Izayoi's Protectors**

The morning after Izayoi learned that her clan was gone life continued onward, relentlessly. Etsuko was there to wake Izayoi and haul her out of bed. Izayoi moved about as speedily as a bag of bricks, but she went through the motions of bathing, dressing, and eating. She was numb, a zombie with puffy, reddened eyes from nightmares and uncontrollable sobbing during the night.

Breakfast was steamed rice, sticky and clumped together, with pickles and miso soup. It was delicious as usual, but Izayoi barely noticed it.

Takemaru was with her, as he usually was during meals, along with their chaperone Yosuda. The children both ate sparingly while Yosuda eagerly shoveled rice into his mouth and stabbed pickles with his chopsticks, then pulled them free with his teeth. Izayoi watched his mouth working while she autonomously chewed and swallowed her own food.

"I am immensely sorry," Takemaru said suddenly, breaking the endless, heavy silence. Izayoi had failed to notice that too, however. She blinked and looked at him blankly as his words passed through her ears, as if there was nothing bug empty space in the hollow cavern of her skull.

Takemaru's expression rippled with difficulty, embarrassment. Izayoi knew he wanted to demand that she speak up and knew that it was improper of her not to answer but there were no words to give him. His words had brought her no comfort—why should she fill space when it brought no relief?

"Did you hear what I said, Lady Izayoi?"

_Lord Inutaisho called me that too,_ Izayoi recalled. Usually if someone wanted to refer to her with the utmost politeness possible, they used her surname—Miyabita. They would say _Lady Miyabita._ Now they said _Lady Izayoi._

Brash anger rose up at the realization. She started to speak—"Don't say…" but the anger gave out, collapsing into her stomach as if she had swallowed it like rice. She let out a little whimper and stared into her rice, then at the miso soup which was thick and cloudy.

Takemaru sighed. "What did I do wrong?" he asked, directing the question at Yosuda. "What did I say that was wrong?" He glared at Izayoi and raised his voice. "I don't know what to do for you!"

"Come, come now!" Yosuda said, sniffing as he wiped his mouth. He set his emptied bowl of soup onto the table with a small clatter. "Lady Izayoi—there is nothing better for you than hard work and prayer! It is only natural to mourn such a grave loss, but certainly death is not an entirely sad thing. Your clan will surely be reborn to have another chance. They will probably have better lives for their undue suffering in this life! You must think of death in these terms, not as simple loss."

Izayoi had missed much of her religious teachings but she respected Yosuda and wanted to wrap her mind and heart around what he said—even if it did strike her as initially gruff and dismissive. Hadn't he ever lost someone? Perhaps he hadn't and could not understand the inner turmoil and anguish Izayoi felt. She was clan-less, alone. But Yosuda was her elder, and he was her teacher. She would be foolish indeed not to listen to him, not to trust in his wisdom.

Yet wisdom was not a real substitute for tender arms, for her father's lost love, and the security and protection of a family and a clan. Wise men might dwell successfully while on their own like that—Izayoi had heard many tales centered on old wise men in the seclusion of the forest—but women were meant to be deeply ingrained in family.

"Death is only sad for those who are left behind," Takemaru echoed, nodding.

Izayoi's body flushed with a burning but brief anger. Takemaru's stolid solemnity, his condescending intelligence infuriated her. Takemaru's clan and family were intact, unhurt, but he was so arrogant that he thought he could master Yosuda's religious lesson on loss and grief by repeating stuffy quotes…It did not touch his heart. He was a boy; it was a game, an act to master, a role to play. But for Izayoi the tragedy was real, as truthful as her devastation and despair.

"You don't know," she said, snuffling almost incoherently. "You don't know anything."

Takemaru blinked at her and then his face rippled, his brow creased in agitation at what he perceived as an insult. "What's come over you? I am to become your husband! It's not your place to insult me!"

"Takemaru is right about that!" Yosuda snapped, glaring at the young girl for her offense.

The reprimand meant little to Izayoi, it bounced off her harmlessly. Before the loss of her clan any disapproval would have filled her with disappointment and a hardened resolve to improve herself. Now she wanted to strike out at both men, one her elder, the other her intended husband. Faintly the voice of reason in the back of her mind whispered and cried that they were trying to comfort her in their own ways, that she should just nod her head and apologize. But Izayoi didn't want to simply accept this loss.

She stared at Takemaru's profile, vaguely aware that he was turning into a handsome creature, a man that other women would envy Izayoi for. But that was a shallow knowledge. Takemaru brought no comfort, only bitterness. Although he had not said it, Izayoi remembered clearly how Takemaru had despised her for communicating with the dog demons, for tolerating them, even learning from them, fueled by curiosity. Now Izayoi wanted to lash out, to strike him for that apparent foreknowledge, that false-wisdom borne of ignorance and fear.

But Izayoi's own path had brought her nothing but despair.

Wordlessly, burying the desire to hit Takemaru or shout at him—just barely—Izayoi hopped up from her spot at the table and rushed from the room. Tears clouded her eyes, blinding her. Yosuda and Takemaru shouted behind her, calling her name, but their voices faded swiftly behind her.

She ran without thought to where she was going. She padded up a flight of narrow stairs that the maids used, bumping into a few of them as she went. Endless screens flashed by her, filled with scowling men or simpleminded women who had never known anything but drudgery and servitude. Izayoi thought of grass and dirt, the laughter of her younger brothers as they scuffled and cried all the harder for the knowledge that it was all gone. Vanished.

And then suddenly she realized where she was. It was as if her feet had known all along where to take her, as if there was a rope tied about her waist, or a hook in her cheek and someone else had reeled her in. The corridor before her now was long and wide, brighter than some of the others because the rooms had large widows that opened to the outside. Some of the rooms even had balconies, though Izayoi had no way of knowing that.

This was where the masters of Nejiro castle slept. In these lofty, spacious upper wings, where they were exalted above all else. There were men's and women's quarters and even more rooms beyond those that could be used for any number of guests. The style was simple and elegant, yet extravagant for the number of individuals that Izayoi knew slept here regularly—well, if demons slept at all. Inside one room, with its multiple sets of sliding doors left standing open to promote a breeze, Izayoi saw a carved wood dresser, lacquered and accented with metalwork. It was taller than she was, reaching almost to the ceiling. The beds inside were elevated on large platforms and shrouded by sheer, silken curtains.

"What are you doing here?"

Izayoi yelped and stumbled, caught between fleeing, crying, or bowing in instant submission. She recognized the male voice that had addressed her and knew at once that he disapproved of her presence. Izayoi saw only his booted feet before dropping into a cowering bow.

"Lord Sesshomaru—forgive me…" Fear made her voice shake, sounding genuine, despair and rage made her throat ache.

He had come out of nowhere, filling the previously empty hallway with his tall, stately elegance. He had apparently sensed her and crept up on her with the silent grace of a cat. Izayoi wondered vaguely, only halfway caring about the answer, whether or not Sesshomaru would kill her. it hardly mattered now that she had no family.

"Leave," he commanded, like the bite of frost on tender springtime sprouts.

Izayoi scrunched up her face and her fingernails scratched on the hardwood flooring as her small hands curled into fists. She was shaking, but not out of fear. She did not rise and leave as Sesshomaru had ordered. The seconds ticked by and the silence seemed physical, impenetrable, but at last Sesshomaru repeated himself.

"Leave, girl."

Izayoi sat up and shouted at him, "I served you loyally! Why did you kill my family?"

Sesshomaru's cold stare narrowed. "Leave—_now."_

"No!" Izayoi shrieked, high and piercing.

Sesshomaru winced at the sound, a reaction brought on purely by the noise and volume of the young girl's cry. "If you do not leave this Sesshomaru will remove you personally."

"You let _her_ kill my family!" Izayoi wailed. "Why? I have done only what you asked!"

Sesshomaru lunged for her, snatching the small-bodied girl by the throat. He hauled her effortlessly into the air until she was at eye-level. He glowered, turning her body this way and that while she scratched feebly at his wrist and arm and kicked with her legs frantically.

"You will be silent," Sesshomaru murmured, growling slightly. "And cease this nonsense. This Sesshomaru had nothing to do with the death of the Miyabita."

Then something happened in Sesshomaru's expression. A flicker of alarm, a shadow of fear. He dropped Izayoi without bothering to lower her, as if the girl had suddenly burned him or turned caustic to his flesh. He whipped around though Izayoi barely registered his rapid movement through her rapid coughing and gagging. She saw his booted feet, the white of his hakama pants. Beyond him someone was standing, but they were at the far end of the hall, well out of the range of human hearing.

But possibly not out of range for a dog demon. The voice that called from the other end of the hall was not human. It was Inutaisho.

"Sesshomaru? What's going on here?"

"Chichiue," Sesshomaru said. He did not bow but held his head upright and his back stiff. Behind him, Izayoi scrabbled to gain some distance from herself and Sesshomaru. She had thought carelessly about her own life mere seconds before, but now that she had faced asphyxiation even briefly she felt very strongly convinced that she _did_ want to live on. The best way that she could think of in the moment to accomplish that with any certainty was to seek Inutaisho's protection.

"Why were you attacking the girl?" Inutaisho demanded, raising his voice. His feet thumped steadily over the floorboards. He did not move silently as Sesshomaru had. He did not try to disguise his anger or suspicion.

"Chichiue," Sesshomaru repeated, seemingly at a loss for words.

Izayoi scrambled, darting around and as far to the left of Sesshomaru as possible as she ran toward Inutaisho. Sesshomaru made no attempt to intercept her. He stayed silent and stiff, letting the scene unfold.

"Lord Inutaisho!" Izayoi rasped hoarsely. She flung herself at his feet as he was still walking, shuddering and cowering.

Inutaisho hesitated, his step faltered and then stopped. "Lady Izayoi?"

"She should not be here," Sesshomaru said.

"Where else should she go?" Inutaisho demanded impatiently, misunderstanding his son's meaning. "The poor thing has no family, or did you forget already, Sesshomaru? You have so little compassion for the uncountable creatures beneath you."

"No," Sesshomaru pressed. "She should not have been _here._ I found her investigating this room." He lifted one arm halfheartedly, motioning for the open doorway to the empty bedroom. "Forgive me, Chichiue. I lost my temper."

Inutaisho snorted, a harsh sound that made Izayoi cringe. "You don't lose your temper, Sesshomaru." Then his voice hardened, changing into a threat. "Don't lie to me. If you will not be honest as I would expect any honorable son to be, then I will be forced to ask the girl and believe her instead."

"Chichiue insults me," Sesshomaru snapped.

Taking her chance, before Sesshomaru found some way to convince his father that she was at fault and needed to be punished, Izayoi sat up and jabbed her finger at Sesshomaru. "Lord Sesshomaru knows what killed my family!"

"Ridiculous," Sesshomaru quipped immediately, dismissively. It was too fast.

Inutaisho was silent for a few seconds. The hallway was frozen, waiting. Izayoi breathed hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She turned slowly, cautiously, to look up at Inutaisho and was stunned to see the mighty Lord of the Western Lands gazing at her with a strange expression that she could not completely read. It was not reproach though it was not pleasant either. There was something like admiration in his bright amber eyes.

He broke the stare to turn his attention to his son half a second later. "Why would Lady Izayoi make up such a nonsensical story, Sesshomaru? You have never harmed her, have you? You have never given her reason to believe she or her family could be in danger at our hands. Is this true?"

Sesshomaru lifted his chin but said nothing. The answer was obvious.

Inutaisho growled, long and deep. He muttered in a language that Izayoi could not understand.

"Father?" Sesshomaru asked. There was a sincere note of pleading in the single word.

"Why would you threaten a harmless little human girl?" Inutaisho bellowed.

Suddenly the hallway was transformed not by tense silence or anger and suspicion, but movement. Inutaisho stepped over Izayoi and charged toward his son. His booted feet pounded on the floor.

"Chichiue!" Sesshomaru cried out. The usual control and chill of his voice vanished and as Izayoi craned her neck around to watch the confrontation she was able to see with fresh eyes how _young_ Sesshomaru really was. He shrank before Inutaisho's full presence, though it was reluctantly. The set of his mouth, the stress around his eyes all revealed a hidden creature that was desperate to evade this situation, to bury it, to postpone the inevitable. And it was done out of some sort of convoluted love. It was not hard to see it there, just under the surface. The love of a confused son, yearning to understand an unknowable father while grappling with the question of his own identity.

But this insight was brief and could have only been imagined. As father and son clashed, slashing at each other and parrying in a short threat display, a jockeying of power, influence, and authority, Sesshomaru gave quickly. The younger dog demon ducked and evaded his father, backpedaling rapidly, blindly stepping down the hallway. He was headed unthinkingly toward Izayoi and the changed direction made Inutaisho leap forward, jostling with Sesshomaru to knock him aside. Inutaisho took a spot just in front of Izayoi, guarding her.

"I won't have you attacking this girl any longer!" Inutaisho hollered, shaking the walls with his volume.

"Chichiue!" Sesshomaru yelled. His white teeth were bared and clenched. "I have done nothing to—"

"What have you been doing to traumatize this girl?" Inutaisho demanded, pointing at Izayoi with his clawed finger, sharp and wicked like the weapon it was. Izayoi flinched at it. "Tell me the truth!"

Sesshomaru was silent and motionless. The brief scuffle had not even disturbed his hair. His nostrils flared as his face relaxed. Yet his stiffened stance belied his nervousness, his preparedness either to attack or be attacked. Then, unexpectedly, Sesshomaru turned his back on Inutaisho and began walking away.

"Sesshomaru!" Inutaisho howled, turning his son's name into a slurred challenge. "Sesshomaru!"

But Sesshomaru did not stop. He reached the end of the hall and turned, walking until even his shadow had vanished.

At last Inutaisho sighed. He shook his hands, opening and closing the fists. He peered over his shoulder at Izayoi at last, as if finally remembering that she was there, and turned to kneel in front of her. He let out a long exhalation and Izayoi thought she smelled sweetness on his breath. She gazed up into his face and his eyes and weakly attempted to smile, but the muscles quaked, making her lips tremble.

Inutaisho tilted his head, regarding her with a small frown. "Lady Izayoi," he said, curling his lips with residual emotion from the faceoff with his son. "I apologize for this mess. Please—tell me what happened here."

Izayoi's mind spun, quickly searching for the right thing to say. She did not want to rave hysterically but the emotion was building inside her, like excess water behind a dam that had no release. It had to breakthrough. She let out a hiccupped cry and let her head drop, her hair spilling around her as she sobbed. "He killed my family!"

Inutaisho let out a small, short growl. "Why would you think that my son would do something like that? He does not care anything for humans."

To share her reasoning with him meant that Izayoi would have to reveal the secret life she had led at Kagetsu palace as Sesshomaru's spy on Shiroihana. How would this powerful being take such news from a helpless, mewling human girl?

"He—he—Lord Sesshomaru—does not want me to speak with you. He t—t—told me he would k—k—kill me."

Inutaisho shifted as if Izayoi had pushed him or startled him. He stammered for a moment. "That—that makes no sense at all. Why would Sesshomaru care what you do? He has never spared Takemaru a second thought."

Izayoi lifted her face tentatively. She was shaking violently. She saw Inutaisho's burning need for answers, the pursed thinness of his lips, the rapid movement of his eyes as he looked over her face, as if the answer might be written there. Izayoi laid her palms flat over the hard floorboards. They were wet with perspiration and squeaked on the wood. She thought quickly and found what she prayed was a solution.

"I can't tell Lord Inutaisho unless he swears to protect me from Lord Sesshomaru and—and Lady Shiroihana."

Inutaisho blinked and pulled back even further. "What? Why would you…" He scowled and looked away. Perhaps he was already catching an inkling of understanding. Izayoi had read intelligence in him before but had not known how deep it ran. Not just for books, but socially and emotionally.

"Lord Sesshomaru will kill me for sharing what I know." She shivered and gasped for breath, trying to force the sentences out coherently. "I've always wanted to tell Lord Inutaisho about it. I tried to, but Lord Sesshomaru would not take me to Nejiro so that I could."

Gazing at the walls to his left, Inutaisho was still scowling deeply. He was seemingly no longer listening to the girl. He began speaking aloud in a thick mumble that made Izayoi hold her breath to catch every word. "Sesshomaru told me Shiroihana lost patience with the girl in a fit of rage. I _knew_ he was hiding something, but I thought it was just to make Shiroihana sound less like the spoiled, rotten little bitch she is." He sighed heavily. "Sesshomaru cannot help himself. Damn that crescent moon…"

Izayoi hiccupped and remained silent, shivering.

Abruptly Inutaisho jerked his head, staring at Izayoi. Then he reached for her legs. Izayoi cried out in fear, squirming from him, but Inutaisho was as strong as a mountain, as fast as a river fraught with rapids. She cried out his name, pleading, and Inutaisho halted. He was holding her legs in a firm grasp with both clawed hands as he frowned, watching her with something close to anger in his eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you," he muttered. "Trust me."

Izayoi nodded and pulled back her small hands. She leaned backward and extended her legs, letting Inutaisho take complete control. She watched with a quivering chin as the powerful dog demon found the seam in her long kimono and pulled it open. Then he rolled up the under robe just beyond her knees. His touch was gentler than it had been initially as he regained emotional control. He exposed the scars over her calves, still raw and pink, as if the skin had bubbled. It was ugly, disturbing for Izayoi to see. She began to cry but covered her mouth with her hands to stifle the sound.

Inutaisho sighed and a second later Izayoi flinched as his fingertips cautiously brushed over the scars. "How could I have been so blind?" he asked, speaking to himself. "This was not done in a careless rage. She could have severed your legs if she was not in complete control. She knew exactly what she was doing."

He tugged down the under robe and then pulled the outer robe of her kimono closed again. "I apologize for the difficulty just now," he said and tenderly helped her sit up, then pulled her slowly to her feet as he rose to his full height as well. He brushed at her face, trying to clear it of tears, but Izayoi winced and turned her head away. She was shaking, unable to banish herself of the unpleasantness of having her scars shown, of feeling helpless in a ruthless grip.

"I have wronged you," Inutaisho murmured sadly. "My family has wronged you. It is shameful—but no more." He was holding her hands, squeezed tightly in his own. Izayoi was barely able to register what was happening, and certainly had no idea how huge it was for the immense Lord of the West.

"I swear unto death—mine in battle or yours in dotage—that I will protect you, Lady Izayoi. No harm shall come to you while you live in my household, under my care. I will care for you as if you were my own daughter. I do solemnly vow that I will not fail you, until death releases me, or you send me away."

Izayoi blinked, startled by his sudden declaration. "Lord Inutaisho?"

He went on as if she had not spoken. "Lady Izayoi, you must realize however, that for me to protect you as I have promised, your marriage will be at the very least delayed. I cannot protect you as Takemaru's wife. That duty would become Takemaru and the Setsuna clan's at the point of your marriage. Do you understand?"

"You mean," her voice came out pathetic, scratchy and faint, "that once I marry Lord Takemaru I won't see you anymore? You won't protect or teach me?"

Inutaisho nodded. "That's right. But I will protect you while you live here, at Nejiro. I will not release you to be married until I am certain you will be safe outside my protection. That is why I have said you may send me away. If you no longer wish me to protect you, you have the power to end it." He smiled slightly, as playfully as he could manage. "I am giving you power over me, Lady Izayoi."

"Yes," Izayoi murmured, shivering.

"Now," Inutaisho said, dropping his voice and any tiny semblance of good humor. He stooped low to be more equal to her while standing, pressing his face close to hers. "Tell me the real reason why my wife hurt you so badly. Tell me why Sesshomaru does not want you to speak to me."

Izayoi gaped at him and hesitated.

Inutaisho was patient and after a moment released her hands to squeeze her shoulders encouragingly instead. "Remember, Lady Izayoi, I have sworn myself to you. You can say anything and I am obliged to listen and protect you, regardless of how terrible it makes me feel. I am not a brute who kills messengers for their messages."

Izayoi swallowed thickly and parted her lips to let the secrets spill out of her. She told him of Shiroihana's infidelity with a certain Koshoshiro of the Middle Lands, and then of her failed attempt to reach him with the news of it. Inutaisho did not seem to react with the fury she had expected to hear that his wife was unfaithful, merely with disgust. It was when she reached Sesshomaru's involvement that Inutaisho became truly upset. He bared his teeth, gritting them together until even Izayoi could hear the enamel grating and cracking.

When Izayoi detailed the attack that had given her the awful scars on her legs, Inutaisho stopped her with angry confusion.

"Why were you scrubbing dishes in the kitchen with the monkeys?" he demanded.

Izayoi nervously elaborated how she had spent her time in Kagetsu, more as a maid than a hostage. Inutaisho growled and pulled away from Izayoi with his hands clenched into tight, angry balls. "That intolerable bitch," he growled. "Her behavior is disgusting." He was silent for a moment and then sneered at the ground. "But it was my fault for leaving you there."

"It was not your fault!" Izayoi protested.

Inutaisho shook his head, dismissing her interruption. "What I did by leaving you there, Lady Izayoi, was about as smart as leaving a mouse caged with a cat."

"I'm not a mouse," Izayoi insisted stubbornly.

Inutaisho glanced at her over his shoulder and smiled darkly. "To Shiroihana we are all mice." He flicked his eyes away from Izayoi and back to the floor with a sad frown. "If only my son could see that."

Izayoi recalled Sesshomaru and Shiroihana talking, discussing Inutaisho and how he needed to be punished, defeated by his own son. She raised her voice, sharing this information with Inutaisho as vital. "Lord Sesshomaru sees Lord Inutaisho as a mouse!"

Inutaisho's head lifted and tilted. "What?" He turned around to face Izayoi with a peculiar look on his face, impossible to read.

"Lord Sesshomaru talked with Shiroihana often. They said things like that you needed to be punished." She paused and then fell into a bow. "Forgive me for saying that."

"Go on," Inutaisho ordered her.

Izayoi spoke the next words into the hardwood of the floor. "Lord Sesshomaru plans to defeat Lord Inutaisho. There is some strange pact between Lord Sesshomaru and his mother."

Inutaisho was silent and grave as a morgue. Izayoi risked looking up at him with bafflement only to see that his face was twisted with agony. Izayoi recognized it as despair, the same sort of emotion she felt when she thought of her father and her vanished clan. She felt new tears well up at seeing it.

Overwhelmed, Izayoi leapt to her feet and rushed to Inutaisho, wrapping her arms around him. He made a small grunting noise when she collided with him but otherwise did not acknowledge her.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried. "I wanted to tell you for so long! None of it makes any sense, my lord!" She began sobbing and the sympathy she felt for Inutaisho mixed and became one with her own grief. "Daddy!"

For a moment Inutaisho made no response, then Izayoi felt his hands on her hair, stroking it. She nuzzled into his haori and tightened her hold around his lower waist. Innocent and sweet, Izayoi did not notice that their vast height difference meant that she could not hear Inutaisho's heart, instead she only heard the gurgle of intestines with her ear laid over his lower abdomen.

The rigidity left Inutaisho's form after a few moments. He shifted his hands, moving them to push Izayoi gently from his body. Izayoi looked up at him, blinking tears out of her eyes. His face was soft and his amber eyes warm like a simmering fire. "Thank you for telling me these things, Lady Izayoi," he said, genuinely. "Please, come with me. I am going to dress you as I would a daughter."

He brushed his thumb over her cheek. "You can be the daughter I will never have."

* * *

Life began changing for Izayoi rapidly. It was as if Inutaisho truly had adopted her. A seamstress arrived to measure Izayoi and select fabrics for robes, kimono, and obi. Izayoi changed rooms at Inutaisho's orders, moving up a level into a larger room with its own dressing room and study. She saw Inutaisho once or twice daily when he sought her out to ask about her day and her health. It was friendly but formal, Inutaisho always listened with a smile as she babbled about what she had learned or what she had done.

Takemaru treated her with curt cordiality that barely disguised his baffled disgust at her continued closeness with the dog demons. Izayoi did her best to ignore his attitude, hoping to overcome his xenophobia by way of perseverance and example.

When the first of Izayoi's custom-tailored summer kimono was finished Inutaisho delivered it to Izayoi in the evening just before the summer rains started. Izayoi had picked out a design with plums and peonies, purples and pinks, but with blue on the hem in a swirl to hint at water. Izayoi thanked him profusely and smiled gleefully. She wore it the very next day only to discover that Yosuda and Takemaru both took note of it in a negative way.

"Why is he making you such expensive clothing?" Yosuda demanded as he watched his students setting up their writing space, grinding the ink and preparing their brushes. "It makes me think of the farmer who feeds his pig extra slop just to fatten it up for slaughter time."

Izayoi frowned, unable to hide or bury her pain at hearing the remark. There were many levels of _wrong_ about it—being compared to a pig for instance. Izayoi wanted to argue with him, to reprimand him, but he was her teacher. It was unthinkable, especially since she was a woman. Izayoi bit her lips and simply stared down at her paper, at the horsehair in the brush.

"Teacher," Takemaru said, "please. You have hurt my future wife's feelings. I would ask that you not make such a cruel comparison, even if the dog demon's favoritism is unbearably sickening."

The exchange left Izayoi sour and hurt. When Inutaisho visited her room in the evening, just after the sun had set, Izayoi could not stop the story from spilling out. She was still wearing the light summer robe, hugging it close to herself, imagining it as a tangible seal of safety, a semblance of family.

Inutaisho listened and then shook his head. His lips looked as though they were caught between amusement and irritation. "Tell your teacher and your betrothed that in light of your loss, Lady Izayoi, I am making you a dowry suitable for a lady as worthy as yourself."

"A dowry?" Izayoi asked, perplexed.

Inutaisho nodded. His face was shaded by the gathering dark, but his white hair and the brightness of the haori and hakama he was wearing both stood out as if they glowed. "A dowry is the gift of wealth and worldly possessions that a bride's family gives to her in-laws. Do you understand?"

Izayoi could not stop the frown that covered her face. "Oh." She stroked the kimono and thought of it possessively, unhappy at the consideration that some close female relative of Takemaru's might come along and take it.

Inutaisho chuckled, reading her reaction for exactly what it was. "Don't be concerned, Lady Izayoi." He hesitated and then stepped deeper into her room, out of the doorway where he had been lurking. Izayoi was sitting in the dressing room portion of her large, spacious chambers, with several round mirrors mounted on the walls, bronzed and silvered, as much decorative as they were also useful.

Inutaisho sat slowly on the floor some half dozen feet from her. Izayoi was so accustomed to his closeness, his presence and fatherly demeanor, that she only dimly realized how uncouth it was for the ruler of the Western Lands to be sitting almost within arm's length, in the dark. But as he began to speak in a lowered, deep voice, Izayoi realized that this bizarre arrangement between them had a business aspect of it that she had not yet seen. Inutaisho operated very differently than the cold, inhuman Sesshomaru. This intimacy was Inutaisho's method of espionage, or true secrecy.

"I must tell you, Lady Izayoi, that I have some news that will frighten you."

Izayoi was silent, motionless as she listened.

Inutaisho's golden eyes were dark and somber, but burning, easily visible in the low light. "I have sent Sesshomaru away. He's aimlessly wandering about my lands, or so I've been told, but there is no way for me to know what he plans." He sat back and clenched his jaw. "I do not know my own son."

Izayoi wanted to comfort him, to say something, but she felt childish, simpleminded. She looked away and into her lap where her hands were clasped, offering comfort only to one another.

"Sesshomaru may have communicated with Shiroihana in some way, but she has recently written to me, asking to visit." He spoke almost in an aside to himself then, "She almost never leaves Kagetsu, skulking, conniving wretch."

Izayoi had huddled into herself, as if melting. "What does she want?"

Inutaisho jerked his head. "I don't know. But I've agreed to let her come. She may have no idea that I know anything about her despicable behavior." His focus changed, piercing Izayoi with narrowed gold. "My concern is for your safety. She may have come with the express purpose of having you killed. I believe that she is indeed responsible for the death of your clan—and I _will_ punish her for it."

Izayoi blinked, suddenly aware that tears were brimming in her eyes. She wiped at them when they spilled over onto her cheeks. She bowed. "Thank you."

"No," Inutaisho said, reaching out to stop her from bowing completely. "You have no reason to thank me. I have failed you since I left you with Shiroihana and since I trusted Sesshomaru to keep her in line." He paused and then tenderly caressed the underside of her chin and jaw, carefully so as not to scratch her with his clawed fingers. "_I_ am the one who is indebted to _you."_

Izayoi stared, gawking for a long moment, then Inutaisho pulled away and moved swiftly toward the door. He smiled and ducked his head. His white hair, loose and unrestrained, spilled over his shoulders like a cascade of snow from over the eaves of a rooftop. "Good night, Lady Izayoi."

Alone in the dark, Izayoi touched her chin and jaw, relishing the sensation of his touch. She would be fifteen in a few months and her young heart fluttered in a strange new way.

* * *

Bodyguards attended Izayoi in the following summer months. They stood outside the room where she took her lessons, the bathhouse each morning when she bathed, and in front of her bedroom at night. When Inutaisho came to see her, in the morning and evening, he sent them away down the hallway to be able to speak in privacy with her.

News was slow at first. Inutaisho found details of the attack on the Miyabita and gradually traced it without a shred of doubt to the Kosetsu province, to loyal followers of the Queen.

Then, as the rain poured down outside and thunder shook the walls, Inutaisho stopped coming. Izayoi heard Takemaru and Yosuda and the maids speak of the Lady of the Western Lands, Shiroihana. They had never really seen the husband and wife interact for more than a few hours or days. Now Shiroihana had come to her husband with gifts and Inutaisho had received her formally.

Izayoi waited anxiously, watching her bodyguards to be certain they were present and alert. Most of them were human and would offer little true protection from Shiroihana if she appeared and decided to attack, but Izayoi took comfort in knowing they were there nonetheless.

It was only three days before Inutaisho visited Izayoi again. He was rattled, upset, though he did not exactly reveal why. Izayoi understood that he had indeed felt something for Shiroihana, but she could not fathom how anyone could.

Inutaisho had sent Shiroihana back to Kagetsu. He had rejected her. Most of his time away had been taken up with vicious squabbling and bitterness. Shiroihana had not wanted to end their marriage officially, though why exactly not was unclear to Izayoi. She had apparently resisted to the end, in spite of her hatred for her husband, but in the end Inutaisho had been firm and insistent. A document was drawn up and signed by both parties, annulling the marriage at long last.

But that was only the formalities. The brutal reality was fast to follow.

Inutaisho ordered Izayoi's bodyguards to continue shadowing her. It estranged her even further from Takemaru, who would soon be sixteen, the age of maturity. At that time Inutaisho would be obliged to return the youth to the Setsuna clan. The marriage was in jeopardy, but Takemaru's family had many sons and a shortage of women to marry them off to. It was unlikely that the family would decide that the marriage would not inevitably go through. But in the wake of the violence unfolding with Inutaisho's family, Izayoi barely thought of her own future. Takemaru was as distant as China to Izayoi, as was marriage.

A brief civil war erupted. Inutaisho gathered forces and mounted an offensive against the Kosetsu province the fall that Izayoi turned fifteen. While Inutaisho was away, Izayoi was listless and unhappy. She often saw Takemaru watching her and felt both irritation and shame—though exactly why those emotions came to the surface was a mystery.

One day, after their writing class with Yosuda, Izayoi rose to leave with her accompanying bodyguards to head for her painting and poetry class, but Takemaru snatched her sleeve. "Lady Izayoi," he said, staring at her pointedly. "I wish to speak with you—privately."

Yosuda yawned and rose out of his spot. "Fine with me." He moved toward the door before Izayoi had a chance to stop him or deny Takemaru's intention. She looked between Yosuda as he left and Takemaru, uncomfortable and aware that Takemaru had a firm, harsh grip on the smooth, beautiful fabric of her kimono. He was not about to release it. In spite of his politeness, Takemaru had no intention of giving her a choice.

"I'll be right outside," their teacher said, closing the door.

As soon as Yosuda was gone and the sliding door shut again, Takemaru turned an unrestrained, venomous glare on Izayoi. "My parents and grandparents are writing to the Dog. They will see me sent home by spring. I'll finally be free of this place—" Takemaru gripped her by both arms, too tight for comfort. Izayoi winced. "—and you're coming with me! Do you understand?"

"I'm not an adult yet," Izayoi protested, unable to stop herself. Fifteen was a marriageable age, but sixteen made more sense.

Takemaru's expression was deadly. His lips thinned until they had virtually disappeared. He had become a very handsome young man but in that moment Izayoi saw nothing but hate and disdain and ugliness. Then Takemaru slapped her. The cracking sound of skin on skin echoed from the walls, bouncing like a toy ball between them.

Izayoi whimpered but stayed still with shock. She barely heard Takemaru's next hushed, angry words over her astonishment and humiliation and pain.

"I've seen enough of you acting so disgracefully! You shame me and my family—and yours too! Don't you realize that if you had stayed away from them and been a proper hostage, a proper woman all this time, your clan would still be alive." Takemaru hauled Izayoi closer to him until he was in her personal space, close enough to kiss her. When he spoke again Izayoi blinked as spittle hit her. "Don't you see? _You_ killed the Miyabita!"

Izayoi felt sick, certain she would vomit. She pushed and struggled, whimpered and cried, but at a quiet, restrained volume. "Let go, Takemaru!"

Takemaru ignored her pleading. He cupped her face in a hard grip and forced her to peer into his face. She was shaking, trembling. Her face burned and stung where he had struck her.

Takemaru spoke in a whisper. "No, no I won't let go. You're going to become my wife. It is your honorable duty to obey me. And it is my task to protect you, even if that means from yourself. Those monsters, the mononoke, they will kill you in the end."

"Lord Inutaisho has never been anything but kind!" Izayoi shouted.

"What's going on in there?" came Yosuda's voice from outside.

Takemaru released Izayoi immediately and strode for the door, opening it in a quick movement that hinted at his enormous fury. "Nothing, sir."

Yosuda sniffed, scrunching up is face. He looked past Takemaru to where Izayoi had collapsed to the floor, quivering like the leaves of an aspen in a storm. Her hair was loose and a little messy and on her cheek a bright red stain of color showed from Takemaru's slap. She had started to sob, her shoulders heaving even as she made no noise.

The teacher looked back to Takemaru and smiled. "Good." He patted Takemaru on the shoulder and turned, vanishing. After a moment of glaring over his shoulder, Takemaru followed, leaving Izayoi alone.

* * *

Endnote: I really apologize for the LONG delay. My parents are on vacation in CA which has left me alone with the dogs for 4 weeks here. I am only 2 weeks in. Ugh. But also my new full time job has been a HUGE distraction. As well as wedding planning. So yes, I have been pretty uber busy. It's depressing that I can't write as often as I want to, though I make extensive notes of plans I have for the future with this story and others. I have had a request for **Saya's** story. You all remember Saya, Sess's firstborn daughter and only hanyou child (If you don't then go read _Return_ and _Runaway)_. Not sure what I would do with that one, possibly pair her with Akisame in a tale of daughters. Aki could use her own development. Seeing her vulnerable or in love would be good. And as for Saya, I have to work out myself exactly what she is, what her future is. Shiroihana is in it of course...Ah gotta love the Queen Bitch of the universe, Shiroihana. All hail!

Notice that we have already been answering a lot of those unanswered Izayoi questions/observations from Inuyasha Movie 3. Answered questions: _Izayoi and Takemaru knew each other beforehand. Izayoi is so tough she gives birth after being skewered by a spear. How did Inutaisho meet her? Izayoi is loving and compassionate. How does Takemaru know she loves Inutaisho?_

Next time:

_"How old are you?" Inutaisho demanded suddenly with a strange tone to his voice that Izayoi could not interpret._

_"Fifteen," she replied. "Why?"_

_"So young," Inutaisho muttered, almost to himself. "How are you smarter than I am when I am centuries old, ages older than you?"_


	20. Izayoi: First Comes Love

A/N: Still dog-sitting. But my incarceration (naw it's not that bad, not quite) is almost over. It's so funny, but Izayoi really does get us so close to Inutaisho. He is much more emotional, much more human than Shiroihana and Sesshomaru. I have purposefully modeled him into being more like Inuyasha. And Izayoi is just tough through and through. She has gradually progressed into womanhood, possibly younger than most. One thing I hope you will all notice is that I have made sure that this story, especially as we get into a romantic relationship, focuses all its sexual interest on Inutaisho (as much as possible.) After all, I'm working around this delicate boundary line (maybe it's only delicate to me as the writer, I don't know) but I always have to ask myself, "Is Inutaisho a pedophile here?" For the Feudal era, absolutely not. 15 was old enough to be married. But nowadays 15 is to go to jail if you're an older man, but it's not as if we all haven't seen or heard about younger women having relationships with older men. As long as it's consensual and the man is not taking advantage of the girl in some way…I don't know. It's an iffy shade of gray.

But for this instance, Izayoi is very young, but she's also the one with the less than pure motives. My intent is to make that obvious in the story. I was 17 or so before I started seeing the opposite sex as being truly attractive, but I know it happens a lot earlier in plenty of girls. I feel it's kinda cliché for Inutaisho to seduce Izayoi. So, I am going to do the reverse of "tradition."

Disclaimer: I do not own them, just these words. I make no money here.

Last Chapter: Izayoi at last managed to tell Inutaisho the truth, that Shiroihana has been unfaithful, that Sess has kept things from him, including that he plans to "defeat" Inutaisho, to punish him. Inutaisho vowed to protect Izayoi as his own daughter and began treating her basically as such, which did not please any of the humans around Izayoi. Izayoi was about to turn 15 last chapter and Takemaru, nearly 16. Takemaru slapped her in a fury for her perceived dishonor. Also, Inutaisho sent Sesshomaru away. We don't know what Sess is up to, if it's anything at all. Shiroihana came to visit Inutaisho and he annulled their marriage. The break caused the ultimate destruction of the Kosetsu province as its own separate entity, though Kagetsu palace survived and so did Shiroihana.

* * *

Corinthians 13:4-7 and part of 8

"Love is patient, love is kind.  
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  
Love never fails."

* * *

Izayoi

(Letter)

Dear Takemaru,

I am pleased that you are happy to be home. I am terribly sorry for my long delay in writing. The snow here was thick and clogged the passes with snow for an extended period of time.

I have been learning to sew. It has been a very pleasant learning experience. Please tell me when the marriage will be. It is already late in the season. Are the Setsuna planning to arrange the wedding for the fall?

Please have your mother and father write to me. I would like to be acquainted with them in writing before I meet them in person at our wedding. I look forward to joining your family and your clan, my lord.

Izayoi

Takemaru's Reply

Dear Izayoi,

My pleasure at being home would have been all the greater if you could have joined me in the fall when I first arrived home. My family is in accordance with this thought. They are eager to meet you and have not considered going back on the arrangement. I have insisted on it. I will indeed have my parents write to you with my letters so that you will get to know them. We will welcome you to our family as soon as possible.

The wedding has been delayed. The Dog Lord sends apologies and condolences that the timing, weather, or other circumstances are not right. My clan grows impatient with him as they view these as mere excuses. We had hoped to have the wedding in the spring, but now the season is much too late. We will hope for the fall.

Takemaru

* * *

**Izayoi: First Comes Love**

The weather had just begun to turn cold and sour when Inutaisho returned. The Western Lands were quiet once more, at peace. They were whole in a way they had never been before, as well. There were rumors that Shiroihana had been killed, ruthlessly gutted by her furious husband. The Middle Lands had had some involvement, but Izayoi learned that it was in a treaty only, a pact for peace.

From Inutaisho Izayoi heard a darker explanation for it.

"Shiroihana wanted Koshoshiro to take up arms against me, to go to war over her," he told Izayoi with disgust in the darkness of her room. "My forces were too many and too strong, but fools like Koshoshiro will do stupid things out of love." He motioned as he spoke, as if he had a map to outline his attack and the battles on for her benefit. Izayoi watched his hands, smooth and graceful, admiring them. "We surrounded and then I sent in messengers to test the water. Koshoshiro was most accommodating, much to Shiroihana's despair."

Izayoi was both thrilled and strangely reluctant to hear about Shiroihana. She despised the demon woman for scarring her, for degrading her as a maid—but most of all for the apparent slaughter of her clan. But it brought Izayoi little relief or gratitude to know that Shiroihana was suffering now. Izayoi had known suffering herself and didn't particularly want to witness it ever again, in others or herself.

There was a dark, malicious gleam in Inutaisho's eye as he spoke about the battle, of Shiroihana's miserable, pointless act of defiance. Most of her soldiers had either fought to the death loyally, committed suicide to avoid capture, or they had changed sides at once. Inutaisho was unusual in that he accepted such cowardice. He welcomed warriors from the other side, even though it could allow in spies and disloyalty. Shiroihana could never have defended herself from the onslaught of the Western Lands, which, like an amoeba, had swallowed all the land around the Kosetsu province.

Now the Kosetsu's villages, cities, and shrines had been burned. The region was little more than ash. Only the magnificent Kagetsu palace remained to grace the top of its cloud-shrouded mountain forever. It was Shiroihana's stronghold, the one place she would keep. Inutaisho was not cruel enough to kill her and take it. He took her land, stripping it from her and demolishing it. Seemingly there was no hope for the Kosetsu and its female line of inheritance to ever rise up again.

One element of the battles that had been noticeably missing was Sesshomaru. Derelict, rogue, the heir to the Western Lands had vanished into the wilds to wander. He was absent while his parents had their vicious squabble.

"I should hunt him down and kill him," Inutaisho muttered at the very end of their conversation—which had been more of a monologue as he recounted the battle to Izayoi. "Sesshomaru is as dangerous to me as Shiroihana. I expected this sort of nonsense from her, but from him…"

The pain in his voice made Izayoi's throat ache with sympathy. "Why didn't you have any more children?" she asked, unable to restrain her curiosity. Human families almost never stopped at one male heir, not unless there were fertility problems.

Inutaisho sniffed, an attempt to bury his previous vulnerability. In front of Izayoi he could express such petty emotions, he could open up. She was only human, unimportant in the vast scheme of things, and a good listener. Her innocence was beguiling, attractive after so much intrigue and bitterness with both Shiroihana and Sesshomaru. Inutaisho had not been raised as Shiroihana and Sesshomaru with the rigors of hard formality and custom as ingrained in him as his own teeth. In China he had enjoyed deep personal relationships with humans before. Being the Lord of the Western Lands in Japan was something of an act, a chronic drama that Inutaisho excelled at but did occasionally tire of.

Izayoi was his escape. She had squirmed into his life as a strange, bizarre counselor in only a matter of months.

But all of this was hidden from Izayoi, unknown.

"Shiroihana did not wish for any other children—from me."

"Oh," Izayoi murmured, nodding. Again she felt childish, unable to console him. "I'm sorry," she said, but thought the sentiment sounded inadequate, hollow. She pressed on with another new thought. "Then you can't kill your son. You only have one."

Inutaisho smirked down at her, showing his canines. "If I only had one plum but it was rotten, are you saying I should eat it, Lady Izayoi?"

Izayoi shook her head vigorously. "No—a son is nothing like a plum."

"And yet they can both go bad," Inutaisho reminded her, a little more somberly now.

Izayoi was silent, considering the situation. At last she gazed at Inutaisho and tried to keep herself from crying as she spoke. "If my mother wanted me to kill my father, if they both hated each other that much—I would never be able to decide."

Inutaisho growled. "Sesshomaru has already decided!"

"He says so little, how do you know?"

Inutaisho snarled and rose to his feet, swiftly heading for the door. "He has chosen his side!" he shouted when he had reached the door, pausing and then beginning to pace.

"Shiroihana thought he was on your side," Izayoi told him. "She was always accusing him of that." She looked at her hands and tried to place herself in the same position as Sesshomaru. She felt a new surge of compassion for him. It would be as difficult as choosing which leg she wanted to have cut off, or which tooth she wanted to have pulled. It was just too painful. Izayoi did not know enough about Sesshomaru or his situation and emotions to know whether Inutaisho was actually right or not, but her gut told her that the young dog demon had been oscillating and playing both sides. He had not wanted to turn on either parent.

"How old are you?" Inutaisho demanded suddenly with a strange tone to his voice that Izayoi could not interpret.

"Fifteen," she replied. "Why?"

"So young," Inutaisho muttered, almost to himself. "How are you smarter than I am when I am centuries old, ages older than you?"

Izayoi shook her head. "I'm not smarter than you, and I'm not that young." She lowered her voice into an unhappy murmur. "Takemaru and I will probably be married in the spring."

Inutaisho grunted. "Keh. I forget how fast your species progresses." He nodded and then left without another word.

* * *

Izayoi and Takemaru had become strangers. He was aloof and outwardly cold, but inwardly Izayoi sensed the hot smolder of his anger and frustration. He watched her, both covertly and obviously. Izayoi noticed some of his observation, but not all of it. At times she would feel a crawling sensation over the back of her neck or on her arms and feel the undeniable impulse to look up, only to see a shadow disappearing down the long hallway, or a flash of movement out of a doorway. She knew, or assumed it was Takemaru because whenever she saw it Izayoi felt a tremor of uncertainty, of discomfort. She pushed the feelings aside and always went on with what she was doing.

Takemaru would never harm her, not seriously any way. Izayoi wasn't afraid of him, but she didn't relish any thoughts of her future as his wife.

Wintertime was slow to come that year. The first snows came in a light, dry sleet that melted into cold rain when it hit the ground. The first storms evaporated as fast as they had set in though, and soon the weather was back above freezing. It was during one of these days where the thin leftover heat of early fall and late summer had not yet lost its hold on the earth that Izayoi attended class with Yosuda and found Takemaru missing.

As she sat down and ground the ink in preparation for the writing class that Yosuda always began with, Izayoi fully expected that Takemaru would emerge after sleeping late or delayed by a slow breakfast. Instead Yosuda did not wait. He began the lesson and time passed until a full hour into the class, Izayoi finished the strokes on the latest character, for the word _renovation_, and asked, "Teacher, where is Lord Takemaru?"

Yosuda yawned and didn't bother covering his gaping mouth. He exhaled loudly when it was finished, in no hurry to answer her apparently. "Young Takemaru probably set off right when you were waking up to head home to his clan for the winter."

"But…" Izayoi frowned, alarmed at this news. "Wasn't I supposed to go with him? And how could he go without Lord Inutaisho's consent?"

"Don't be silly," Yosuda muttered. "The Lord of the West was the one that suggested Takemaru leave for the winter. He has been away from his clan too long and there's a lot of planning to do for him."

"So I'm alone," Izayoi mused aloud. It was not necessarily a sad realization, but it was not entirely comforting either. Izayoi wasn't eager to marry Takemaru, but without that future lined up for her Izayoi was even worse off, lost and bereft—forgotten by her own kind.

"Don't worry, you'll be busy," Yosuda reassured her blandly. He snatched the piece of paper she had drawn on and examined the character critically. "Place less weight on this stroke here," he instructed. "It looks more like _rejuvenate."_

"Yes, teacher."

* * *

The fair weather held long enough for Takemaru to send a letter to Izayoi. It was formal and well-written, but cold. It brought Izayoi no joy at all. Takemaru prayed for her continued good health and described his own pleasure at being home, at seeing his family.

It was unbearably insensitive considering that Izayoi could not even see her family at her wedding. They were all dead, crossed into a world where she could not yet follow. In a fit of anger, Izayoi crumpled the letter, then reopened it and tore it to pieces. Then, in a final act of defiance, Izayoi added it into the brazier and lit it herself with a spark from a flint rock. As she watched the ink and paper curl as it burned, and flare brilliant red and blue as various chemicals inside the ink reacted to the fire, Izayoi had a sudden moment of revelation. She had thought Takemaru cruel and uncaring, but now she saw it was accidental. He had not really meant to taunt her. It was simply that he had forgotten that it would hurt her to write about such a bitter subject.

Izayoi watched the fire and tried to work herself into a positive mindset. She fought to see Takemaru as benevolent, not malevolent. After all, she was going to marry him, and if Izayoi brought hate with her to the union it could only end badly.

A sound from behind Izayoi made her twist around to look at the doorway. She had closed it when she'd sat down to read Takemaru's letter, but now it was open and Inutaisho filled the space. He was firmer than any door, imposing and powerful. Izayoi should have felt intimidated, but instead she at once felt comforted.

"Lord Inutaisho!" She left the warmth of the brazier and bowed to him in greeting. "I haven't seen you much lately!"

"I have been away traveling," he told her. His voice was deep, possibly distracted. Izayoi didn't like the sound of it but could not interpret it or think how to fix it other than to be lighthearted. She buried her own unhappiness with Takemaru's letter and her thoughts on impending marriage.

"What have you had to do?" she asked, lifting her head and watching him unrestrainedly.

Inutaisho moved out of the doorway and deeper into the room, closer to her. He sighed and his armor clanked heavily. Izayoi felt her stomach flip flop at the sounds the massive lord made. She thought of how hard his armor was, hard and cold, but how hot his skin underneath must be. It was fascinating, alluring. To see him in full armor, the regalia of war, thrilled and distracted her. Izayoi's eyes strayed over the shine of the metal and admired the fabric in his thicker, winter haori and hakama.

"I have been in the Takeyabu province, reinforcing it with soldiers and guards. I do not trust my—" He cut himself off and growled, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "I do not trust that fugitive bitch."

"You think she would try to kill Lord Takemaru?" Izayoi asked.

Inutaisho snarled and began to walk alongside the wall, pacing with more speed than he usually did when Izayoi had seen him restless. "I don't think anything is sacred to _her._" He halted abruptly and looked at Izayoi with narrowed eyes, but the golden orbs inside were bright rather than reproachful. "There is much you don't know about her, about the despicable things she has done."

"I would believe them if I heard them," Izayoi murmured, staring down into her lap. She glanced at the desk where she had ground ink and prepared paper to write a response to Takemaru.

"She has no heart," Inutaisho went on, pacing again. "She has no compassion—and that is a trait she passed on to Sesshomaru."

Izayoi knew immediately what was troubling Inutaisho now. She lifted her head. "No, my lord, you can't kill your only son!"

"He is spying on me," Inutaisho snapped. His long white hair flowed behind him like a gust of snow in a blizzard as he crossed rapidly from one side of the room to the next. "I sensed his presence in the Takeyabu. That was why I made every effort to reinforce those lands with youkai warriors, all loyal to me. I am certain that as soon as it is time for you to be married, Sesshomaru will kill you for _her._"

Izayoi was shivering, her body tense. The thrill of seeing Inutaisho in warlike garb had vanished, replaced with the knowledge that it was _real._ The scars on her legs ached with remembered suffering. "You must speak with him! You must meet with him! He cannot hate you—he's your son!"

Inutaisho's lips were curled up, creased to show sharp white teeth. He moved abruptly toward Izayoi and sat, setting the armor clanking and rattling. Izayoi did not flinch at his closeness, but she did tense and her eyes widened.

Inutaisho's nostrils were flared, his eyes wrinkled with their tightness. He reached out and took her hand. Izayoi resisted slightly at first, but then felt the heat and gentleness of his hands, even though they were rough and battle-hardened. She relaxed and accepted his touch.

"Izayoi," he said, dropping his voice. It was gruff but somehow pleasant. Izayoi had the perverse desire to embrace him, to press her face against his neck and chest to hear and feel the vibration as he spoke. He had dropped the formality when addressing her and the intimacy of the lapse in title made her stomach flip flop again.

"Humans and youkai do not care for their children in the same way. I have seen such emotion, such closeness in human families." His face softened as he went on. "I have experienced it myself with my own mother. I planned to emulate humankind with my own family—but the inuyoukai do not encourage this closeness. My wife…" He broke off and snarled, looking away. "Shiroihana was very dear to me once. I never stopped hoping that we would reconcile—but she has worked very hard to keep Sesshomaru from me. He has never been as devoted to me as he was to his mother. That damned crescent moon…"

"He looks so much like Lady Shiroihana," Izayoi put in.

Inutaisho let go of Izayoi's hand and instead rubbed at his own face roughly. Izayoi saw the glint of his claws in the reddish-orange light of the brazier. "Fate is against me. Sesshomaru will probably kill me."

"No!" Izayoi reached for Inutaisho without thinking, pulling on his arm, squeezing it with her small, fragile hands. "You have to talk to him! Lord Sesshomaru could not kill you and you mustn't kill your own son!"

She leaned her forehead against his arm and closed her eyes, imagining his terrible pain, taking a bizarre comfort in the idea that it eclipsed her own. She had never lost a husband to hatred, never been betrayed by a child, never had to consider killing one. Most of all, Izayoi was alone because of death, of real and genuine circumstances. Not because others had turned so cruelly against her.

"Why do you want me to preserve his life?" Inutaisho asked in a scratchy voice. "Why would you want him to go on living when he is a threat to your life? Why would _you_ want to save him when he would kill you without a second thought?"

"Because he's your son—and you love him, my lord."

Inutaisho was silent and motionless, not even breathing. A full minute passed and then Inutaisho made a thick, gruff sound. "Keh…"

Izayoi felt his body shaking ever so slightly. "Lord Inutaisho?"

He moved suddenly, wrapping his arms around her, scooping her close to him. Izayoi made a small sound of surprise and then her heart pounded, her throat tightened with exhilaration. Inutaisho stroked her hair and nuzzled into her neck, touching his cheek with hers. Izayoi gradually began to realize that the great Lord of the West was desperately trying to hide the fact that he was crying. Izayoi felt moisture on her cheek, but it was so warm and soft that she had trouble discerning the wetness from flesh.

"I am indebted to you," Inutaisho muttered. His voice had become thick and husky from tears and emotion. "I had made up my mind. He is too great a threat."

Izayoi turned her head, trying to lay it over his shoulder, but his armor, cold and spiked, got in the way. When Inutaisho spoke she pulled away from him and saw the fine marks in his skin, around his eyes and mouth. She had thought it flawless from far away. Now she saw that he was not immune to the effects of time. Somehow the signs of his advanced age only pleased her more. She could not stop herself from touching his face, feeling the strong line of his jaw.

"Lord Sesshomaru is not powerful enough to kill you," she said, confident of that knowledge.

Inutaisho's lips curled with bitterness. "If my son is able to spy on me without me finding him—he is a match for me hand to hand. He cannot best me when I am armed. It is probably my destiny that I shall die at his hands. That is what happens to many inuyoukai."

"Will you find him?" Izayoi asked. "Will you talk to him?"

"Sesshomaru has left me, run from me," Inutaisho muttered. "I cannot approach him."

"Of course you can—you're the Lord of the Western Lands. You have to talk to your heir. You have to make sure he's on your side."

"Sesshomaru is untrustworthy," Inutaisho grumbled, turning his head slightly to gaze beyond Izayoi rather than at her.

Izayoi boldly patted Inutaisho's face and grinned when he blinked, startled by her action. "Promise me?"

He hesitated and Izayoi saw his warm, honeyed eyes moving over her face. It was a long enough moment that Izayoi suddenly began blushing, realizing that she was seated in his lap, so close to him that she could smell him, the musty scent of his clothing, the metal odor of the armor, a faint fragrance of soaps, oils, and sweat. She blushed and averted her eyes.

Inutaisho sighed and gently pulled Izayoi in to lean against him. He stroked her hair and rubbed her back. "I promise, little Izayoi. Daughter."

Izayoi wrinkled her face at this, unhappy at it. Inutaisho could not see the reaction and she was grateful for that. It was so strange and even a little awkward to be in his arms—but it was also _right._ It was as comforting and natural as drinking cool, clean water after walking outside on a hot summer's day, or resting in front of the brazier to warm herself in the thick of winter.

* * *

Winter passed by uneventfully. Izayoi spent most of it taking lessons and learning to sew with the seamstress that Inutaisho had hired to have customized kimono made for Izayoi. The collection was growing swiftly, but there weren't enough kimono to satisfy Inutaisho. Each morning that he visited Izayoi, usually just after she was dressed, Inutaisho examined her growing collection and praised her choices for the fabric, and the excellent work of the seamstress in making them, but the number always displeased him. Izayoi had more than enough in her mind, but Inutaisho wanted to make her a proper dowry, to impress the Setsuna.

There was little word of Sesshomaru. Inutaisho assumed that his son had retreated to Kagetsu palace to rejoin Shiroihana. Izayoi agreed with him but always cautioned that his impression of Sesshomaru's disloyalty could be wrong.

In a brief thaw in February, a kistune arrived with word that Sesshomaru had actually taken up residence at Jouka palace. Inutaisho shared the news with Izayoi that evening in a pleasant jovial mood. As soon as the snow had melted sufficiently, Inutaisho would keep his promise by going to speak with Sesshomaru directly.

"There is also the matter of your marriage," Inutaisho told her on that same visit. "The Setsuna want you to arrive there as soon as the snow melts. They intend to marry you to Takemaru this spring."

Izayoi feigned eagerness, but knew that her performance was not all that convincing. "Yes."

"I'm afraid I won't escort you to the Takeyabu province soon enough for a spring wedding, Lady Izayoi. I must first deal with Sesshomaru, as I have promised you."

Izayoi nodded. "I understand."

Inutaisho smiled down at her. It was early morning and Izayoi had just finished dressing in a yellow and pink kimono, a spring robe though it was not yet that season. She was too eager for the return of warm weather and sunshine. "You look like a princess."

Izayoi could not stop herself from grinning at his praise and flattery, but her mood was tempered by a mixture of irritation and sadness. She did not want to be the child; the daughter that she felt certain Inutaisho was still seeing when he gazed at her with such warmth. Her smile faded and she turned to glance at the bronzed mirrors behind her where her reflection showed a very young woman whose face had only just begun to shed its baby fat. Her long, silky black hair, shiny and straight, was that of a woman now, not a child. The maids had naturally begun to make her look more womanly, with more adult styles, as she approached the age of human maturity.

Yet she had the impression that Inutaisho did not notice, or refused to do so in the way that—for whatever reason—Izayoi craved.

"Are you all right?" Inutaisho asked. He was standing tall, towering over where Izayoi was sitting on the matting with Etsuko the maid bowing to the floor behind.

"Yes," Izayoi said, smiling sweetly.

"You must miss Takemaru," Inutaisho said. "And I have delayed your wedding. I hope you can forgive me."

They stared at one another for a time, something unsaid passing, a warm longing, a burgeoning affection. But Izayoi knew it had two different definitions.

"I will always forgive you," Izayoi said, still smiling sweetly. Inwardly she cursed her youthful face, its childish expressions, her body's high, piping voice. Beneath the layers of silk kimono she had felt her breasts swelling all winter, noticed the way a kimono obi fit her narrowing waist instead of bulging out as it had when she was only a year or two younger.

Inutaisho's face rippled with something odd for half a second, then he smiled and nodded to her. "Good day, Lady Izayoi, I'm keeping you from your lessons and I'm afraid your teachers will be less forgiving than you are."

Once he was gone, Izayoi felt her shoulders sag, her stomach sour. Etsuko moved behind her, reaching out and tugging Izayoi's long hair, making the other, younger girl cry out. "Ow! Why did you do that?"

"You're acting like a stupid fool!" Etsuko snapped. "Do you know what you sound like?"

"I'm not doing anything wrong in the slightest," Izayoi snapped, slapping at Etsuko's hands in outrage—but also embarrassment. Her face was burning with humiliation. She had gone all winter without someone—another human—scolding her for some perceived misbehavior with getting too close to the inuyoukai.

Estuko pulled on Izayoi's hands, her wrists, yanking the girl closer so she could whisper. "You look like you're infatuated with the Dog Lord. It's ridiculous and—and—dangerous."

"What are you talking about?" Izayoi demanded, but her heart was pounding inside her ribs.

"Haven't you ever heard one of the cautionary legends, songs, poems? Anything?" Estuko asked persistently, her voice hissing.

Izayoi had calmed somewhat now and settled to listen. "No. My mother died when I was young. I only learned silly, friendly children's songs."

Etsuko looked around the room nervously as she continued. "Let me sum all of them up for you: Never get close to a mononoke. They aren't human. They don't think like we do. They can put spells on you. You won't have any idea that you're under its influence. They have impure intentions. _Always._"

"No less impure than anyone else's," Izayoi countered.

"Human women are weak. It's dangerous enough to love a human man, but one of the mononoke? Izayoi—have you thought about any of the dangers? Have you thought about how _wrong _it is?"

"How wrong what is?" Izayoi snapped. She shook her head helplessly. "I've done nothing wrong!"

Etsuko sat back and scowled. "Well if he hasn't made his move on you yet there's still hope. You have to turn him away. You have a good life ahead of you! I've seen Takemaru, he's _so_ handsome."

_He's so mean,_ Izayoi thought unhappily.

"I'll help you," Etsuko whispered. "I'll go to a Shinto priest and ask for a charm to ward off evil intentions. It will be small, discreet. You can wear it in your obi. I'll tuck it into it every day."

"Thank you," Izayoi said. _There's no harm in warding off evil intentions._

_

* * *

_

Spring flew by and progressed into summer. Izayoi did not see Inutaisho for many months, but letter streamed in from the Takeyabu province. The Setsuna clan, Takemaru's immediate family mostly, wrote to her and asked constantly when she would come to meet with them in person. Izayoi delayed in answering each time. She actually constructed lies for Inutaisho at times, claiming that the winter had been too harsh and that was why she had not come in the springtime. And as for the summer, well, some of the other provinces were in strife and Inutaisho was away…

That much was not really untruthful. Inutaisho was in the midst of a family crisis and his son's life hung in the balance. Inutaisho sometimes sent Izayoi letters. They delighted Izayoi when she received them. Inutaisho had a unique, sloppy handwriting that was refreshing after Takemaru's impeccable and cold script. Inutaisho added clips of strange poetry with imagery that Izayoi had never imagined herself. He related jokes alongside more troubling and difficult news. Izayoi folded the letters and kept them stored safely away in a small drawer in her desk, or under a loose corner of the tatami matting in her large bedroom.

When Inutaisho returned just before the early summertime rains, Izayoi had already collected the charm from the maid Etsuko.

"Anyone who touches you with evil intentions to hurt you, physically or emotionally, will be burned while you're wearing this," Estuko had said and handed Izayoi a furry object. "It's a rabbit's foot. Nothing special. But the priest placed a spell over it."

Izayoi had taken to wearing it religiously, sometimes in her obi, sometimes trapped close to her skin. It was soft, a pleasant thing to have against her skin. It made her long for something else, something physical; some touch to fulfill a need she had never known existed before. It was like being hungry, Izayoi wanted to be content, sated with sumptuous, filling and flavorful food. But this hunger was deeper, stranger, and no amount of food could satisfy it.

It bubbled inside her when Inutaisho came to meet with her in the evening on the day of his return from seeking out Sesshomaru. She was eager to hear what he had to say—knowing that if Sesshomaru was truly disloyal, Inutaisho would have to face the very real possibility of killing his own son, his only child. Yet she was also overjoyed to see his white hair, the thickness of his powerful body, the shape of his lips—especially when they formed a real smile that transformed his face.

When she saw his somber mood, however, Izayoi's own fiery joy quieted. "My lord?"

Inutaisho wasted no time with cordialities. He strode into Izayoi's room, leaving the door open, and sat in front of her on the floor, knee to knee. He opened his mouth to speak, showing the glint of wet, white, sharp teeth, and then sighed, covering his face with both huge, powerful hands. "I cannot read him. I cannot trust him."

Izayoi moved with impulse and instinct. She crawled forward and began to untie Inutaisho's armor. He lifted his head and watched her, perplexed. "What are you doing?"

Skittish, Izayoi stopped what she was doing, but the heavy shoulder piece was already loose and it fell with the tug of gravity, clattering onto the floor and making Inutaisho wince at the harsh sound.

Izayoi gasped. "I'm so sorry! I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable."

Inutaisho shook his head but did not look at her. "Don't be sorry, Izayoi. You've done nothing but try to help me. I am grateful for that." He chuckled lightly. "I am always at my most comfortable with you."

Izayoi smiled and nodded. A moment later she reached again for his armor with more confidence and began to untie it, section by section as Inutaisho talked.

"I suspect it is as you've thought before. Sesshomaru cannot choose between Shiroihana and I. Now that our marriage is finished, I think Sesshomaru does not know what to do with himself. I think he will gladly cast both of us away to become his own ruler. He is accountable to no one. Young and reckless and lacking compassion." Inutaisho twisted his head, trying to see where Izayoi was working on the armor at his back. "I cannot fathom how I raised a son with no heart, Izayoi. A son who chooses to emulate his cruel, heartless mother over me."

"You can't give up," Izayoi said. The armor slipped from his chest and back and once Izayoi had pulled it aside, she wrapped her arms around Inutaisho's stomach, clasping her hands together over his chest. Inutaisho took a deep breath at her touch and his chest swelled, expanding.

"Sesshomaru will likely come to visit over the late summer. Anything could happen. I have given him Jouka palace and a smaller stronghold, the Insen. I have tried to bestow favors on him, but he has nothing to say."

Izayoi could feel the heat rising up through Inutaisho's clothing. She strained her ears to hear the sounds of his lungs, of his heartbeat. "Give it time," Izayoi whispered.

Inutaisho growled and the noise and strong vibrations funneled through him into Izayoi's waiting ear. "Time is all Sesshomaru needs to kill me and exact Shiroihana's revenge."

"He won't do it," Izayoi said.

Inutaisho shifted, turning his head though it was impossible to look at her. He demanded, "How do you know that?"

"If he was going to do it, he would have tried it already."

Inutaisho chuckled, jostling Izayoi where she was secured to his back, absorbing his presence and being with the dedication of a sponge.

"As always, Izayoi—Daughter—I am in your debt. So young, but so much wisdom. I can't imagine ever sending you off to Takemaru. I will miss you terribly."

_Don't,_ Izayoi thought and felt her eyes prickling with tears. _Don't send me to him. Don't leave me. _She wanted to crush him to her, to hang onto him forever.

But she was daughter to him only, and fathers had given away their daughters for millennia to let them cleave to a husband.

When Izayoi sniffled, Inutaisho grunted. "Keh," he huffed, "why are you crying?"

Izayoi let go of him reluctantly and swallowed, trying to bury the quaking emotions inside her. Inutaisho moved to face her with a look of concern. His nostrils flared as he smelled her tears and distress, and his eyes narrowed as he examined her. "What's wrong?"

He touched her chin, lifting it. Izayoi recalled the charm momentarily but Inutaisho's touch was the same was always and he did not pull away as if he had been burned. What a fool Izayoi had been to listen to Etsuko's superstitious babble for even a second…

"What's wrong?" Inutaisho repeated, stronger now, more insistent.

Izayoi bit her lip, trying to convince herself to lie. _This is a childish outburst, an infatuation. It's wrong. I am going to marry Takemaru. I am only fifteen. He is hundreds of years old…_

Inutaisho growled and the sound jerked her out of her thoughts. "What aren't you telling me? Izayoi? What's the matter? Why are you crying?"

She scrambled to hide it now and pulled away. "Nothing, sir."

There had never been a less convincing denial in all of Japanese history. Inutaisho ignored her response and grabbed her with a tender but resolute grip. He held her by her shoulders, pulling her face and body close to his own so he could peer into her eyes, into her face, searching her.

"What would make you lie to me?" he demanded.

Izayoi started sobbing, shaking with the force of the intense, needy, adult emotions that were surging through her young body. Her lips trembled and fought her as she tried to make them work, to move correctly around the words she wanted to say.

But she didn't want to explain with words. She could not think them. It was too much effort.

She lurched forward clumsily, pressing her face to Inutaisho's, though he tensed and pulled away an inch. Izayoi pressed on, driven ahead. Inutaisho had not expected this action and he released her as he leaned back from her, only halfheartedly retreating in his confusion.

Izayoi awkwardly crawled into his lap, still pressing her face into his. Her lips met with his jaw line. The skin was hot, almost scalding, but it was soft and alluring. His skin had a scent, intoxicating but was impossible to identify. Izayoi's tears brushed from her cheeks to Inutaisho's, and her next clumsy kiss brought the sweet-salt of teardrops to her tongue.

She kissed again and again, following instinct and desperation. Inutaisho had not withdrawn again but his body was tense, he was holding his breath.

Izayoi's mouth found his then, her hands fell on either side of his neck and felt the thick ropes of muscles beneath his haori and undershirt. His lips were supple and soft and the enthralling scent that was over his skin was intensified on his lips, in his mouth. It was a unique smell-taste, the essence of him, and it sent the insatiable hunger inside Izayoi twisting and aching with want.

Inutaisho did not shy away from her first mouth to mouth kiss, and when her hands squeezed over his shoulders, Inutaisho opened his mouth to her and his hands moved of their own volition to Izayoi's waist…

And then Inutaisho pushed her out of his lap indelicately, severing the kiss and making Izayoi cry out with surprise and loss. She had not yet managed to sit up before Inutaisho was on his feet and moving for the door.

"My Lord!" Izayoi shouted after him, quivering. Her body was still aflame, desire set her heart pounding, but now her face was flushed and burning with humiliation and fear as well as sexual tension.

Inutaisho's back was to her. His shoulders rose and fell three times before he lifted and turned his head so that Izayoi could see his profile in the dull light coming from the hallway beyond. His lips parted as if he would speak and Izayoi remembered with raw need the way his mouth had tasted…

"I'm sorry," he said, stammering slightly. "I will…I can't—I'm sorry."

He vanished down the hall, leaving the door wide open.

Alone, Izayoi sobbed until she nearly threw up. She fell asleep thinking about the feel of his lips, the taste of his mouth, the scent of his skin. Part of her wanted to be broken, to be defeated by the unbearable rejection. Yet Izayoi was not a defeatist. She did not give up or give in. She had never done that, she had only endured and adapted.

She could not stop remembering and envisioning the clumsy first kiss. But it had been more than just one, there were several and Inutaisho had opened to her, had accepted. He had laid his hands over her with a conflicted reaction. It had not been just to push her away. She had tasted his mouth…Just before sleep took her at last, Izayoi vowed that she would taste it again, no matter what it took or however long…

* * *

Endnote: I rediscovered the Corinthians passage on love (some of the best words ever written) in the pre-marriage counseling that my fiancé and I have been doing with the church. And boy, Izayoi has it BAD! But some of the qualities are also Inutaisho's. Like, always protects. Ah, love.


	21. Izayoi: Then Comes Rejection

A/N: Wedding planning is in full swing-ish now. Busy busy. I had trouble putting this chapter together. Oh, and BTW, HAPPY 4TH to all the Americans, and well, everyone. Why not say happy everyday, whether it has significance for you or not? But yeah, I had trouble getting this chapter down. I wanted to pretty much BAM! Move into a relationship with these two, but instead I found Inutaisho resisting me. So the end of this chapter flowed out. He is a bit harsh there, and well, let's face it, he isn't human. He has been so kind and sweet for the most part to her, it's easy to forget. But I wanted to bring it home. I think that was what was missing. So I am thinking next chapter will be the first time these two do anything besides a sloppy, half-assed kiss. Would it be a lemon, a full-fledged lemon? Not planning on it just yet (not while she's just 15). I'm still like quietly freaking about the age, but honestly, 16 is marriageable in some places (even sometimes in the US). Anyway...

Disclaimer: I do not own them, just these words. I make no money here.

* * *

Last Chapter: Izayoi made a move on Inutaisho, but was rejected (sort of). She vowed to keep trying, no matter what it took or how long.

* * *

"Sorrow" by Li Ching Chao (Last Stanza)

The wild geese - see -  
Fly overhead  
Ah, there's the grief  
That's chief - grief beyond bearing,  
Wild fowl far faring  
In days of old you sped  
Bearing my true love's tender thoughts to me.  
Lo, how my lawn is rife with golden blooms  
Of bunched chrysanthemums -  
Weary their heads they bow.  
Who cares to pluck them now?  
While I the casement keep  
Lone, waiting, waiting for night  
And, as the shades fall  
Upon broad leaves, sparse rain-drops drip.  
Ah, such a plight  
Of grief - grief unbearable, unthinkable.

* * *

Izayoi

(Journal)

He holds my life in his hands and he does not know it. It is unbearable, the slow march of the seasons, each bringing me closer to Takemaru and the Setsuna clan. I belong nowhere, least of all there. Takemaru despises me. Why has he not found another woman to be his wife? Have I not suffered enough? What did I do in my previous life to be so punished? Perhaps there will be more luck in the next one…

* * *

**Then Comes Rejection**

The next morning Izayoi dressed and sat still while Etsuko patted a powdery makeup underneath her eyes to cover the circles that her sobbing for so long had created there. Life went on as if nothing unusual had happened. While Etsuko was putting on the makeup to cover the marks of Izayoi's misery, Inutaisho appeared at the doorway. He greeted them both, but never took his amber gaze from Izayoi.

"Good morning," he said.

Etsuko bowed after muttering a greeting, then Izayoi did the same. She averted her eyes from Inutaisho often, unable to hide her humiliation from him, her sheer vulnerability, but Inutaisho's soft expression and gentle voice remained irresistible. Soon Izayoi was watching him with the same unabashed longing that had driven her to kiss him the previous night.

Before leaving, Inutaisho smiled at her—but it was not quite genuine—and said, "You will make a beautiful bride."

Izayoi thanked him but felt her mouth puckering as if she had eaten a sour plum. She cried after he had gone, restrainedly, but Etsuko scolded her with rash anger and belittled her as a fool. With that kind of company Izayoi quickly gathered her emotions under control and buried them for the rest of the day. But as the shadows lengthened, and her classes drew slowly to a close, Izayoi wondered what the evening would bring. What would Inutaisho do now? Would he come and see her? Would he sit with her as they had before, or would he stay in the doorway? Would he even come at all? She pondered these possibilities until she felt sick with the effort and tension.

That night, as the sun gradually set, Izayoi sat in front of her open window. A cool, wet breeze moved in from outside. Already the hollows and dips in the ground would be collecting moisture in a condensed fog. Izayoi had seen it rolling in and forming during her summers on the mountainside of Kagetsu palace. Nejiro's courtyard would likely do the same, but Izayoi's view was mostly of sky, then of distant hills.

She sensed his arrival rather than saw or heard it. Izayoi tilted her head, turning it only slightly until she was able to catch Inutaisho's impressive silhouette in her peripheral vision. She knew she should greet him but found it impossible to move or speak.

"Izayoi," Inutaisho said, rumbling her name deep in his chest.

Izayoi closed her eyes at the sound, enchanted by it. "My Lord?"

"You are very young," Inutaisho said, launching into explanation. "It is not my intention to shame you or hurt you in any way. For that reason I have decided that these evening visits I share with you must cease. You are human and very dear to me, but we must not act inappropriately. Do you understand?"

"Why is it inappropriate?" Izayoi asked quiet and sullen. "Everyone tells me that, but I do not feel that way at all."

"Humans and youkai are not meant to pair in such a way. Just as dogs and cats do not breed together. Do you understand?" He spoke with the patience and confidence of a teacher, distant and authoritative though compassionate.

Izayoi scowled. The scenery outside of the window in the distance blurred as her eyes clouded with tears. "I understand."

A moment later Izayoi sensed movement and turned to look at the doorway—but it was vacant. Inutaisho had left her.

A little strangled sob escaped Izayoi's mouth but she stifled it and covered her mouth with one hand. The other she laid over her chest, aware of the rapid tic of her heart. _No,_ she told herself, _I will not despair and I will not give in. Not yet. Not ever. _

If Inutaisho thought she was too young then that was the real problem. There were too many cautionary tales, too many songs and legends of human women that were enchanted, of demons that fell in love with women and seduced them. They could not all be flights of fancy and imagination. They must be based in reality. Cats and dogs did not interbreed, they did not mate or love—but the comparison ended there. Cats and dogs could not speak. They did not marry. They did not have wars, clans, tools, clothing—perhaps if they did they _would_ mate out of affection, out of sheer joy.

She returned to the memory of their kiss. Of the way Inutaisho had parted his lips, letting her taste his mouth…

_If human women can be seduced by demons,_ Izayoi thought, _then a human woman can seduce a demon._

It was an excellent plan and it gave Izayoi hope. There was just one problem.

She had no idea how to do it.

* * *

Weeks began to pass. The heat of summer descended, often accompanied by humidity that felt suffocating. Time seemed to slow into a crawl. Izayoi watched Yosuda and other teachers grind their ink, wet their brushes to paint or write in slow motion. Everyone seemed to move languidly, with a slowness borne of the summer heat, which always seemed as though it was unending—but Izayoi was certain that she could feel its short, fast life slipping by rapidly, like sand in an hourglass.

Letters came steadily from the Setsuna clan and from Takemaru. His mother was strong and authoritative, striking fear into Izayoi. She could clearly see the way this other woman would control the future household, squashing Izayoi beneath her thumb. Takemaru's father was much the same. The entirety of Takemaru's immediate family were identical to him. The prospect of being trapped with them for the rest of her mortal life fueled Izayoi's determination to do what everyone told her was not only wrong or ill-advised—it was impossible.

One day while dressing, Izayoi asked Etsuko a difficult, naughty question.

"There must be books that I can read—on what men and women do together in the marriage bed." When Etsuko smirked at Izayoi, seemingly an admission that Etsuko knew of such reading materials, Izayoi persisted. "Where can I find them?"

"In the men's wing of Nejiro I've heard that there is a library _filled_ with that sort of smut." Etsuko moved around Izayoi, looping a dark purple obi around her waist. "You can't read any of it because it's in Chinese."

"Chinese?" Izayoi parroted, surprised to hear this news and dismayed at it. Her face was burning with both embarrassment and frustration. _How am I supposed to learn anything from them if I cannot read any of them? Why would anyone keep that library unless…_

"Someone must be able to read Chinese here," Izayoi said. Already she suspected she knew who it was.

Etsuko had finished looping the obi around Izayoi's waist. As Izayoi finished her sentence, Etsuko groaned and yanked on the fabric purposefully, unbalancing Izayoi until she almost tumbled over.

"What—why did you…"

Etsuko was glaring at Izayoi, sneering. "Stop thinking like that! Who gave you this idea? I thought you'd learned your lesson!"

"What are you talking about?" Izayoi shouted angrily.

"The Dog," Etsuko said, dropping her voice into a harsh whisper. "I thought the charm worked. He tried to touch you and it pushed him away because he was trying to seduce you. Now he's put this thought into your head, hasn't he?" Etsuko scoffed and pushed Izayoi coaxingly back into position in front of the mirrors so that she could begin securing the obi firmly shut with a gold cord and tying it. "I thought you were over that! You should be more concerned with learning from those books to please your husband on your wedding night!"

"How can I learn anything from them when I can't read Chinese?" Izayoi demanded sullenly.

"They have plenty of pictures I hear," Etsuko told her. She tugged on the kimono to straighten a wrinkle and then began knotting the gold cord.

"Thank you for telling me what you have," Izayoi said using formal words. Her mind was spinning. _Pictures?_ But surely the text was just as important, if not more so. And Izayoi could not read it. She suspected that she knew who could, but Izayoi could not go to Inutaisho for that. He would almost certainly turn her away. The thought was too humiliating.

_Yosuda,_ she thought. He was scholarly enough that he probably knew a little bit of Chinese. And if she lied to him convincingly he was sure to help her with the material, no matter how difficult.

The very next day Izayoi ventured into the men's quarters of the castle, through corridors and hallways that she had never seen before. Occasionally guards passed her and stared, baffled at her presence. But none of them tried to stop her. In the higher levels, closer to where Inutaisho had his room and where Sesshomaru would have stayed as well had he been there. At the end of one long, brightly lit and well aerated corridor, Izayoi saw sliding doors that had been left open, exposing a massive room with small writing desks, paper and other writing equipment all surrounded by shelves and drawers filled with hundreds, perhaps even thousands of documents.

Izayoi found that almost the entirety of the library was in Chinese. Notations on drawers and shelves were labeled in characters that were faintly familiar, but indecipherable. Izayoi's heart was racing and her body clammy with sweat as her frustration mounted. The hallway was empty, but she felt exposed and vulnerable. At any moment Inutaisho could appear and catch her investigating the Chinese library. Perhaps he would not know what she had come there for—how could he really?—but in her paranoia Izayoi just knew that he would see her face and be able to read her intentions. And he wouldn't help her, even if she lied and told him it was in anticipation of her wedding.

What father wanted to teach his daughter all the nitty-gritty details of sex? As fine of a teacher as Inutaisho was, Izayoi could not imagine him comfortable going about it. Perhaps before she had kissed him, but not now.

Izayoi left the library, slinking out of the men's quarters like a fox from an empty henhouse. She waited through the rest of that day and in the morning after bathing, dressing, and breakfast, she found the nerve to ask Yosuda about it.

"Teacher," she said softly as he examined the first sentences she had written for that day.

"What is it?" Yosuda was squinting and had spent much of his life with a pinched look around his eyes. His face was creased with wrinkles as a result though he was not old, only middle aged.

"I—please forgive me for asking such an inappropriate question," Izayoi began slowly, with accumulating embarrassment.

Yosuda lowered the paper that he was scrutinizing and fixed his narrowed black-brown eyes on her with fresh attention. "What's on your mind, Lady Izayoi?"

Izayoi bit her lip and then plunged into it, refusing to let petty emotions like embarrassment waste her time and slow her down. "I need to know how to please my future husband. I'm scared. Is there something I could read…?"

Yosuda set the paper down and shifted his position. He was smiling with amusement. "Aw, there is no need to be ashamed or frightened, young lady. Young Lord Takemaru is a fine man. He will do right by you."

"But—I want to learn. I want to be prepared."

Yosuda's lips parted as Izayoi went on. Izayoi had not expected him to be so gleeful. It was unnerving. "There are many books and scrolls on the topic, but most of those that I can fetch for you immediately are in the language of the mainlanders. The dog demons collected them and never bothered translating them, but fortunately our own human scholars have made numerous ones of their own, as well as translated the better works by the mainlanders. I will bring you what I can, young lady."

Izayoi let out a long breath of relief. She didn't bother trying to hide it and thanked him with genuine gratitude. Yosuda's attitude toward her improved afterward. He smiled more often and offered greater praise when she succeeded in making a well-formed symbol or sentence, or bit of poetry. At first Izayoi thought it creepy that bringing up such a topic would soften her teacher's mood and heart—but after her lessons with Yosuda were over, Izayoi realized the truth was even worse.

Yosuda reacted as he had because he believed her lie. He was convinced she wanted to learn how to properly pleasure her husband—Takemaru—and learn to be a good and proper wife. Yosuda had always adored Takemaru and had been teaching him much longer. He had a hard time dealing with Izayoi because she had behaved so unexpectedly, bonding with her inuyoukai captors more than her betrothed husband. Now he thought she had at last come around and started to be normal, like a real and dutiful woman.

Yosuda was pleased with her because he was happy for Takemaru.

Izayoi was disgusted to think along those lines, but could come up with no better reasoning. Even so, when Yosuda brought her books in Japanese she was grateful and thanked him while blushing. She took the books back to her room and hid them under her futon mattress. In the evening when Inutaisho normally would have come to visit her before she had kissed him Izayoi took out the books and read them by the dwindling sunlight, and then by brazier and candlelight.

The information was overwhelming at first, curious and disgusting at once. The information was tailored to humans, a fact that Izayoi had to constantly remember as she read. Did dog demons have the same genitalia as human men? Was the process the same? Izayoi had been exposed to some naughty books at Kagetsu palace, some of which were not meant for humans—but for youkai. The memories were faint, tainted with difficulty from hard work and the strain of surviving under Shiroihana's taunting. Even so, Izayoi thought that the information was different at least slightly for dog demons.

In 3 weeks she had finished the books and returned them to Yosuda after taking extensive personal notes. But she had already decided that she had not learned enough.

She would need to learn Chinese.

When she asked Yosuda about the possibility of learning Chinese, he scoffed at her.

"You do not have enough time, young lady. You will be married in the fall. I cannot possibly even begin to teach you that language in such a short amount of time." He harrumphed some more before going on. "And besides, you would have no use for the language. You will never travel to China. The mainland is a useless place anyway."

Izayoi thought she detected a deeper, hidden message in Yosuda's refusal. _He doesn't know much Chinese._

That left Izayoi with one alternative…

* * *

She made her request as soon as she saw Inutaisho the next day, while Etsuko was still tying her obi in the ornate style of a young maiden. Izayoi was hampered by Etsuko's work and could not bow or do anything but turn her head as she spoke.

"Would Lord Inutaisho be so kind as to teach me Chinese?"

The request, spoken unavoidably in earshot of Etsuko, took both listeners by surprise. Etsuko paused in her tying for a moment and gawped over Izayoi's shoulder. Izayoi could see Etsuko's face in the bronzed and silvered mirrors, could read the displeasure and shock.

"I am certainly fluent in Chinese," Inutaisho said, recovering from his initial reaction. "But it is a difficult language and I see no practical reason for you to lose valuable time learning it. Perhaps Yosuda…"

"I've already asked him," Izayoi interrupted. She craned her neck to look away from Etsuko's face in the mirrors and toward Inutaisho. She met his honey-colored eyes and could not stop them from projecting her determination. "He doesn't know it very well, I can tell."

Inutaisho grunted. "It is a difficult language. It would be very hard to learn and have almost no benefit for you."

"There are poems," Izayoi insisted urgently. "Ballads, songs, and ancient scrolls…"

Inutaisho countered this with a bright, smart smile. "And there are many translations in Japanese!"

Izayoi anticipated where the conversation was headed and knew she had to stop it. Inutaisho would realize that there was a specific piece of writing that Izayoi wanted to read. Naturally he would ask what it was and Izayoi would not be able to lie effectively.

Etsuko tugged on her obi, a long and wide line of silver-blue fabric. Izayoi could tell with each yank and tuck that Etsuko was impatiently waiting for Inutaisho to leave so that she could give Izayoi a piece of her mind. Izayoi didn't want to let Inutaisho leave. If she delayed him, stalled him with the conversation, then she could finish dressing completely and leave with Inutaisho, thwarting Etsuko's wrath altogether—until tomorrow, that was.

Izayoi changed tactics rapidly before Inutaisho wised up. "You don't think I can learn it!"

Inutaisho scowled. "Don't be ridiculous…"

"Why else would you say no?" Izayoi retorted and then frowned unhappily when she registered the childish pout in her voice. Though she was embellishing to make Inutaisho forget all of the reasonable arguments about the pointlessness of learning Chinese, or questioning her motives for it, Izayoi hadn't wanted to seem childish or innocent.

She looked back at her reflection, the pale oval face surrounded by a halo of long black hair like a curtain of water cascading downhill. The bronzed surface of the mirror was not as clear as water or glass—Japan had no glass and would not have it for centuries—but Izayoi knew that her features were inescapably youthful. She tried to compose them into a serene, docile mask, the look she had seen in paintings of courtly women or on some of the Miyabita women, sometimes even her own mother, when they were around male relatives and husbands.

"Personally I feel it will be a waste of your time," Inutaisho muttered from the doorway.

Izayoi was slow to answer him, distracted as Etsuko swatted the fabric of the obi, which was tied in a puffy, elaborate bow. Another mark of Izayoi's youth and status as an unmarried maiden. It was harder to lift her voice jovially this time as she tried to justify the lessons yet again. "I barely have enough to do, my lord. Lessons only take up the mornings and there's so much more to do and to learn. I have so much to preparing to do!"

Etsuko had finished with the obi at last. She backed away from Izayoi and dropped to her knees formally, acknowledging Inutaisho's presence. Izayoi knew the other girl would be furious with her tomorrow but that hardly mattered. She had escaped that wrath today and could leave the dressing room walking beside the tall, stately grace of the Lord of the Western Lands himself.

As they set off into the hallway, with Inutaisho leading only slightly, Izayoi had to take rapid steps to keep up with his wide, free-swinging gait. His legs were long and supple as a blade of grass, but as strong as tree trunks. His hakama were not form-fitting in the least, but Izayoi could imagine the bulge and hardness of his leg muscles.

Inutaisho spoke above and ahead of Izayoi as they walked. The sounds rose and fell bizarrely. At first Izayoi thought Inutaisho was yawning—but when the noises continued she gradually realized she was hearing _speech._

"My lord?" she asked, scuttling with her small steps inelegantly to catch up to him and walk at his side rather than just behind him. Her socked feet whisked on the hardwood floorboards.

Inutaisho turned his head slightly and peered at her with one golden eye, partially squinted with mirth at her reaction. "I just addressed you in Chinese, Lady Izayoi."

Izayoi lit up, thrilled that she had succeeded. Her grin made Inutaisho laugh, a loud and shameless bellow from deep in his chest. Izayoi heard it and tried to smother her delight. She tried to thank Inutaisho with the solemnity that the moment probably deserved. "Thank you my lord! I will work very hard to—"

"You won't thank me for very long!" He reached out and brushed her hair with his hand, stroking it affectionately. She was so much shorter than he was. On her tiptoes Izayoi could just barely manage to lay her forehead to Inutaisho's stomach—not that she had done that, though she wanted to do it.

"How do you say thank you in Chinese?" she asked, aware of the heat on her face, the power that his casual but fond touch had on her mind and body.

Inutaisho replied without thought, slowly pronouncing a few words, nothing but noises to Izayoi's untrained ears.

"_Th-ank. You."_ Izayoi repeated after him, parroting.

"Very good," Inutaisho told her, nodding. They had reached the doorway to the study where Yosuda was waiting with a scowl on his face. The expression vanished as soon as the sour middle aged man recognized Inutaisho. He bowed and greeted Inutaisho robotically.

Inutaisho did not take his gaze away from Izayoi as he motioned for her to step into the room. "I will meet you in the courtyard gardens for our first lesson. I will warn you now, young lady, I won't take it easy on you."

Izayoi felt lightheaded. She started to thank him in Japanese but stopped and deliberately reused the first bit of Chinese he had taught her. _"Thank you."_

Inutaisho nodded and answered with unintelligible noise—more Chinese. Then, as Izayoi walked past him, reluctant to peel her attention from him, to be parted, Inutaisho smirked, parting his lips to reveal the glint of moist, sharp teeth. He began speaking rapidly in Chinese, but aimed the words purposefully past Izayoi toward where Yosuda was still bowed low to the floor. Although Izayoi understood none of it, she guessed that it was a question.

Yosuda lifted his head slightly and mumbled. "Um—yes, my Lord."

Inutaisho's eyes flicked to Izayoi and silent laughter flew between them at the private joke. _You were right,_ Inutaisho seemed to say. Yosuda was not proficient with spoken Chinese at all. Aloud he said, "Good day, Lady Izayoi."

"My Lord," Izayoi murmured, bowing. When she looked up again, Inutaisho had already gone.

* * *

Chinese was just as hard as Inutaisho had promised, and although Inutaisho made no effort to ease into the teachings slowly, Izayoi was ferociously determined and learned without trouble. Each day after Izayoi had already endured reading, writing, sewing, cooking, and some classes on herbs and gardening, she walked to the large inner-castle courtyard where Inutaisho waited for her. Inutaisho had always been a fine teacher, thorough and patient, but languages were an entirely different subject. He immersed Izayoi by force in the language, speaking to her in Chinese over and over again until Izayoi had to guess meanings and piece them together for herself.

It was a crash course, but it was not what Izayoi quite wanted. Speech and writing the Chinese language were two very different things. Inutaisho did not see a point to moving away from pronunciation and speaking before Izayoi had mastered them. Writing would be even more confusing.

Izayoi should have felt discouraged, upset—but instead she relished the lessons and sat through each other lesson of her day in anticipation of the time she would share walking with Inutaisho, listening to his voice changing, rising and falling like tides in the sea.

She began to realize that Inutaisho enjoyed the lessons as much or more than she did. She had enough sense to know that Inutaisho was making a rather lame excuse for not teaching her to read in Chinese. There was no reason to teach her how to converse in the language and the symbols for Chinese close enough to Japanese kanji that Izayoi would logically have only minor trouble with it.

Inutaisho could have taught her to read Chinese—but that would mean he spent less time with her. Others could read Chinese as well, it wasn't all that uncommon. But speaking it fluently was another matter entirely. Inutaisho was sharing something with her, opening a secret world of language that would exist between them, drawing them closer.

Though Izayoi could not understand why, she didn't miss the way Inutaisho's body and face changed while he spoke in Chinese. He was animated, alight from within. He formed each word carefully, taking a deep, sensual enjoyment from their use. And when Izayoi successfully completed sentences in the language or answered his questions after accurately understanding them, Inutaisho lapped up every word like a hungry kitten drinking milk.

One late afternoon as the sun was setting and the days were just beginning to have a hint of autumn in them, Izayoi decided to ask just why Inutaisho treasured Chinese so much.

The courtyard was bathed with a pinkish hue from the setting sun coloring the evening sky. They had been chatting in a mixture of Japanese and Chinese when Izayoi at last, haltingly, managed to ask her question.

"_Why you like to speak Chinese so much?"_ They were seated in a decorative pavilion and hanging from the eaves on one side a wooden chime sang, tinkling like water. Though there was no sunlight—it was too low behind the walls of the castle around them—Izayoi could have sworn she felt it warming her back. The pinkish light colored Inutaisho's face. He was not as pale as Shiroihana and Sesshomaru were, but his skin tone was always lighter than a human man's. Yet in the evening light he seemed to burn, to simmer like coals in the brazier.

Inutaisho was seated only a few feet away, close enough that Izayoi could have leaned out and touched him. His eyes were mostly closed, like a cat about to take a nap. He opened them gradually, lazily to gaze at her and continue the lesson. "You meant to say _'why __**do**__ you like to speak Chinese so much?'_Try it one more time."

Izayoi patiently repeated the question, phrasing it correctly and carefully pitching the tone of her voice.

Once the question had been asked correctly, Inutaisho sighed and responded to it for the first time. "My most honorable mother," he said, using Japanese to be clear. "I was raised on the mainland. I can speak seven languages."

After he had spoken, Inutaisho searched over Izayoi's face, scrutinizing her critically, waiting for her to react. Perhaps he had expected her to be offended, to question his heritage or his lineage. Instead Izayoi gaped with genuine awe.

"Seven languages? Lord Inutaisho! What is the mainland like? Are there really bears as tall as trees? Giant cats? Ogres and monsters and…"

Inutaisho's harder expression faltered and died at once, replaced by a smile and then by laughter. "The mainland has all that and more."

"I wish I could have seen it!" Izayoi exclaimed.

"Perhaps someday I will take you then," Inutaisho said, still laughing. "I would take on my true form and romp around the hills as a giant white dog—and I will carry you on my back."

Izayoi first laughed at the mental image of what he'd described, then thought better of it. She feigned the smile that stayed on her lips after the laughter had faded. She looked into her lap at her small hands. _He still sees me as a child._ She would be like a daughter going for a piggyback.

"_Lady Izayoi is very pretty,"_ Inutaisho said in a slowed Chinese for her benefit. _"Lady Izayoi is the fairest maiden in all of the islands."_

"_Thank you,"_ Izayoi answered, averting her eyes. _Empty words. The same words any father would give to his daughter. _

Yet even as Izayoi felt despair growing within her, a crushing weight like hands around her throat, another part of her mind was spinning, calculating her next move to evade the pain of giving in. She saw the bluish coloration of Inutaisho's markings, jaggedly carved over his cheeks and wrists. And as she wondered where else it might be on his body, Izayoi hit upon a plan.

* * *

After the lesson in Chinese had concluded, Inutaisho left Izayoi to finish the rest of her day alone. Normally Izayoi wandered the gardens, the courtyard, or any of the long lonely halls of Nejiro Castle deep in thought or fantasy or memory. There were many things to think about, some of them pressing, some pointless, others pleasant, but most were unhappy.

That night in late summer, Izayoi didn't set off to wander in her own thoughts, or to read for enjoyment or distraction. Instead she retreated immediately to her room and wasted her time pacing anxiously, watching the shadows lengthen through slats in the window. When she felt it was at last late enough, Izayoi knelt at her writing table, and prepared ink to write with. She had paper constantly at hand to answer letters from Takemaru and the Setsuna clan, but she usually answered slowly, the only sign of her reluctance.

She used a sheet of this thick paper, dabbing her brush carefully and then testing it to be sure it wouldn't drip sloppily. Izayoi impatiently chewed her lip and tapped the fingers of her free hand as she struggled to think of a suitable phrase of poetry. First she wrote the line she had shared with Takemaru while she was still trapped in Kagetsu palace.

"_I am the single grain of rice spilled from the bowl."_

As proud as Izayoi was of this bit of personal poetry, it didn't convey the emotion that Izayoi wanted to bring to Inutaisho to satisfy her plan. She stared at the wall to one side of her, then focused on the futon. She ignored the frustration inside, her own impatience, and closed her eyes to direct her attention inward.

A moment later she wrote another phrase, _"Like pebbles in the surf, I am your servant."_ She dabbled briefly with other ways of stating it, but soon decided that she didn't like the phrase unless she was thinking only of Inutaisho. She imagined Takemaru's slap, the sting, her humiliation, her fear of becoming his wife—bound to him forever.

"_You are the tsunami that smothers my shores."_

Although Izayoi wasn't completely satisfied she folded the bit of paper and set her brush aside. The sun had vanished outside, it was getting late. A lingering haze fogged Izayoi's brain, though she was too excited to truly notice it as she stood before the mirror in her room and gazed at her face, hair, and clothing in its silvered reflection. Normally when Izayoi was ready to undress for bed she went to the maid's quarters and asked one of the female servants to help her out of her elaborate robes. Now she made a face, crinkling her lip with effort as she yanked and tugged on cords and fabric, anything to loosen and remove the kimono.

Finally the obi loosened and fell to the floor in a long coil. Izayoi slipped out of the robe and stood before the silvered mirror in her thinner under robe. She shivered and moved her hands up and down her body from waist to thighs, checking the curves, as if they might have vanished since she had bathed that morning.

Izayoi had nothing seductive to wear. The closest she could come was her simple, thin night robe. Izayoi found it folded on her bed, ready for her to change into for sleeping. It was a dark gray, with no embroidery at all and nothing but a simple sash to keep it closed. Izayoi only hesitated for a moment to consider what she was about to do, then changed into it, leaving her under robe on the futon in a messy disarray. Then she snatched up the folded note with its bits of poetry, and charged out of the door.

She wasn't sure where she could find Inutaisho. She knew he did not sleep regularly like humans did, and indeed, she had never seen him eat either. But he did bathe at least once a day and during his evening visits—before he had stopped them anyway—Izayoi had noticed that he would wear a night robe when he saw her sometimes. Izayoi suspected that he bathed in the evenings then when he was not traveling or occupied with guests or business.

First Izayoi tried the bathhouse. Her socked feet were soundless as she tiptoed over the wood and then the blue and green tiles. She saw signs that it had been used recently. The walls were slick and moist, the air humid. It smelled of soaps and oils—but it always smelled that way.

Disappointed but undeterred, Izayoi went back through the corridors, up flights of stairs, ignoring the uncountable looks she received from servants, guards, and maids. At last she came into the wide, spacious hall where Sesshomaru had attacked her and been caught by Inutaisho—the encounter that had bound Izayoi to Inutaisho. Izayoi smiled to herself as she considered that past. It felt like forever ago, but in reality it had only been about two years…

_Yes,_ she thought, bolstering her confidence as she walked, treading gently over the floor, stalking down the hallway in search of Inutaisho's personal chambers, _I am almost 16. I am almost an adult by law. _She not only could show Inutaisho that she was more woman than girl, she _would_ do it, and she would do it tonight—_now._

There were three bedrooms in the corridor. One of them Izayoi knew had belonged to Sesshomaru. Either one of the other two could be Inutaisho's. Izayoi listened at the door of each room, then slid the screen open to peer inside. All three were dark, unlit and unoccupied. Izayoi needed to cautiously enter each, searching for clues that they were used.

Izayoi boldly headed into the first one, but found that the wooden window slats were shuttered. It was almost impossible to see. Izayoi clutched the note tightly in one fist and used the other to feel the darkness, probing along the screened wall. She felt a dresser and drawers hidden in the wall. Her foot bumped a cushion and Izayoi let out a little squeak before pinching her lips together to silence the sound.

She waited a time to compose herself and became aware of the hard, rapid, harsh sound of her breathing. When she tried to hold it to stop the noise her head pulsed and Izayoi gave in, letting her breath out in a whoosh. She pressed onward, nearly reaching the first window before she heard the thump of footsteps directly outside the room.

Izayoi's fingers had just brushed the rougher wood of the window slats when she first registered the footsteps. Izayoi froze and held her breath again, straining every sense to perceive just who was outside in the hallway.

When she had walked into the room Izayoi had left the sliding screen door only open a tiny bit. Now a shadow moved, tall and proud, along the wall in a streak of movement that somehow did not match the sound of its feet. There was a rapid clatter as he pushed the door open the rest of the way. Izayoi had not taken a breath or made a sound that she was aware of since she had first noticed his footsteps.

It was Inutaisho—but now that Izayoi was about to face him and enact her plan, she felt frozen, stricken with stage fright.

"Izayoi," Inutaisho called in a rough bark. Izayoi had a second to wonder how he had known it was her—it was black in the room with no firelight at all, and Izayoi had made no discernible noise. "What are you doing here?"

Izayoi cleared her throat but still found her voice hoarse when she spoke. "I—I was—Lord Inutaisho—please forgive me."

"I'm not upset," he said, and strode beyond the doorway and into the room, apparently at ease with the lack of light. "But I am a little concerned."

He came very close to her, within three feet before stopping. Izayoi watched him and felt her throat ache, her palms sweating all over the folded note. Inutaisho reached out effortlessly and pushed on the window slats. Moon and starlight, milky and opaque, seemed to flow in like water. Izayoi saw motes of dust swirling in the air as a small breeze picked up, smelling sweetly of night-blooming flowers.

Inutaisho growled then, taking Izayoi by surprise and making her spine stiffen with tension. "What is it?" she asked, her voice quavering.

"Why are you dressed that way?" Inutaisho demanded. He motioned at her with one clawed hand, indicating her night robe. "You should be in bed wearing that."

There was truly nothing unseemly about Izayoi's night robe, but it was thin and her body's curves showed through it more than in clothing she wore during the daytime. Terrified of the rejection she sensed so near, Izayoi dropped to the floor and begged Inutaisho's pardon. She clutched the folded paper with its phrases of poetry in a desperate, sweaty grip. "Please forgive me for intruding, Lord Inutaisho! I only wanted to seek your help!"

Inutaisho knelt down with a long, heavy sigh. "I apologize for frightening you," he murmured softly. Izayoi felt his hand on her shoulder. "What was it you wanted my help for? Is something troubling you?"

Shakily, Izayoi extended the paper toward him. "I—I was writing this poetry—it's not very good! And I wanted to write it in Chinese and send it to Takemaru."

Inutaisho unfolded the paper, crinkling it in a sound that normally brought Izayoi joy to hear. It seemed pointless for him to look at it in the dark; Izayoi didn't know how he planned to read it. She lifted her head and peeked at Inutaisho, watching as he turned the rice paper toward the moonlight streaming in from the open window slats. The slats themselves cast black shadows in bars across the paper, further obscuring what was written. Izayoi tried to see Inutaisho's face but it was shadowed, unclear. She thought she could see the feathery tips of his eyelashes, moving as he blinked.

At last Inutaisho groaned and lowered the paper. "We need some real light."

Izayoi stayed where she was while Inutaisho moved to where a brazier was sitting, cold and unlit. In a moment sparks flew as he struck the flint to light it. The coals sprang to life and the room filled with a warm orange glow. Inutaisho moved silently toward the writing desk in the room, bigger and with larger cushions than the one in Izayoi's room. He smoothed the paper on the desk and leaned over to examine it carefully. Izayoi had to twist her head to stare at him. She fisted her hands and repeatedly smoothed her robe as she waited.

Finally Inutaisho sat up and looked at her, puzzled. "Why would you want to send Takemaru these lines? They're not the least bit happy."

Izayoi felt as if she would vomit—but at the same time her heart hammered with relief and exhilaration. Her plan was working. She had guessed that Inutaisho would react exactly as he had upon reading the phrases and knowing she meant them for Takemaru. She knew exactly what she had to say next and though her throat felt swollen as though words had never passed out of her mouth before, Izayoi found them easy to say and mean.

"Takemaru doesn't make me feel the least bit happy." She paused and then turned away to stare at the moonlight, pouring in with its barred pattern. The urge to elaborate made her stutter as she fought for more to say. "I—I'm afraid. Takemaru—he is—cruel. I do not love him. I cannot love _him."_

Inutaisho let out a long breath behind her. Izayoi resisted the intense desire to turn and face him, to watch him react. It didn't take him long to speak. "Love doesn't come first in an arranged marriage. You will learn to love him."

Izayoi gritted her teeth together. She wanted to punch the wooden slats of the window, suddenly seeing their shadows as a prison on the moonlight, a menace. She reached out and touched the nearest slat, rising onto her knees to do it. She adjusted it, trying to let more moonlight in even as she imagined over and over how she could smash it with her fist if she tried.

"I know that is not the message you want to hear," Inutaisho said, not unkindly. The change in his tone made Izayoi's anger begin melting. Tears burned in her eyes, blurring the opaque moonlight.

Inutaisho chuckled tightly, though Izayoi hardly trusted herself to pick out something like nervousness in someone as great and powerful as the Lord of the West. Yet when he spoke she felt sure that was what she heard. "I know your true reason for coming here. You are not subtle, Lady Izayoi."

"What do you mean?" Izayoi cried, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to fold up and disappear. She already knew what he meant and knew she wouldn't be able to lie about it much longer.

"You hoped I would call off your marriage," Inutaisho went on a little harder. "You planned to convince me that Takemaru should not be your husband. But more than that, you've come here to seduce me."

Izayoi shook her head violently, feeling her hair move, tickling her shoulders, which were slightly exposed by the night robe. "You cannot make me marry Takemaru!" she shrieked, ignoring the rest of Inutaisho's accurate assessment of the situation. "He is cruel, he does not understand me! He—he beat me!"

This had an effect on Inutaisho. "He beat you?"

"Yes!" Izayoi wailed, shaking.

Izayoi did not hear or sense when Inutaisho moved, crossing the room and sitting behind her. The first she knew of it was when she felt his arms wrap around her, warm, solid, secure. She clung onto them, pressing her face to the smooth, soft fabric of his sleeves. His scent was thick, rich and comforting. She recalled her father vividly, holding her and rubbing her back after she had woken from a nightmare while napping. And after her mother and brothers had died Izayoi's father had shared his tears with her, holding onto her with a fierceness borne out of the fear of losing her too.

But it hadn't done any good. Izayoi had lost her father, and he had lost her. She cried harder, sobbing, with both grief at the loss of her family and clan all over again as well as the certainty that she was on a hopeless quest. Inutaisho would never love or care for her as anything but a daughter, a ward that he would see off properly to her arranged husband.

"Hush," Inutaisho whispered just behind her ear. "Hush. You are braver than this. I'm sure when that fool hurt you that you didn't make this much of a fuss."

Izayoi tried to be obedient, holding her breath and calming the sloppy sounds of her hard, rapid breathing. She wiped ferociously at her tears. _You are braver than this…_

_Yes, I am_. Izayoi could hear Inutaisho's voice and her father's in her head. It was the message she had heard over and over in her life. It was her bravery that had made Shiroihana pick her out of the other Miyabita girls, bravery that had first set Izayoi and Takemaru apart as enemies, and her bravery had also gotten her out of Kagetsu palace—albeit at a high price. Now could her bravery save her from a future of hopelessness and degradation with Takemaru? Could it get her Inutaisho's heart?

"I love you," Izayoi said suddenly.

Inutaisho snorted, though the sound had a soft edge to it, as if it were really an attempt to disguise something else. "Izayoi…"

She turned, shuffling on her knees, and faced him. His face was difficult to see, but Izayoi could discern the paleness of skin from the darker color of lips, eyes, brow, and cheek markings. His hair was a white halo around his face. "I love you," she said, sniffling. "Don't send me away! _Please…"_

Inutaisho smiled, showing his teeth, which were as white as his hair but glistened with moisture and sharpness. "You are too young to know what love is."

"You're wrong!" Izayoi yelled, rash with anger at his reaction. "You cannot think that!"

Inutaisho's smile disappeared. His face changed, Izayoi saw the jagged bluish streaks ripple as muscles moved. He let out a deep growl that made Izayoi's heart and stomach flutter with something akin to terror.

"I am a dangerous beast," Inutaisho rumbled. "Never presume to know what I am thinking! If you had any sense you would know you are foolish to persist in this game." He pulled her closer with force and Izayoi let out a small squeak of surprise and fear. She stiffened as she felt Inutaisho's skin, hot but dry, smooth and hairless. His cheek brushed against hers and then dropped down. His lips touched her neck and Izayoi held her breath and closed her eyes as her body melted into him, burning with desire.

"What you want from me," Inutaisho growled into her skin, "I would be glad to supply—but humans and inuyoukai are not meant to pair." His clawed hand came up and struck like a snake, closing around Izayoi's throat and holding her still without constricting her airway—just barely. "You are too easy to kill. You are fragile. I could snap your neck now like a twig."

Izayoi whimpered and tears rolled down the corners of her eyes, streaking down to her chin. She made no attempt to move or fight Inutaisho's hold. Though she was afraid, she did not give in and show it.

"If that little twerp Takemaru hurts you after he is your husband, you have a chance to hurt him back. You could kill him. You could poison his meals. You are a better match to him. Do you understand?" Inutaisho let out a rough exhalation and then inhaled deeply, brushing his lips and nose to the delicate skin at Izayoi's neck and shoulder. Then, suddenly, he released her.

Izayoi lowered her head, averting her face and gritting her teeth. She felt Inutaisho's eyes on her, drinking everything about her in. It was like being sized up by a hungry wolf or a bear.

"If I hurt you it would be unintentional," Inutaisho growled. "But you could never harm me in that way. I could kill you in a moment of passion." Something in his voice changed, quieting with sadness. "And I would never forgive myself for it. Do you understand?"

"There are so many stories," Izayoi whispered through her clenched jaw. "It is not impossible."

Inutaisho laughed, a hard and bitter sound. "Those tales are all warnings for girls like you. There is no happiness in them."

"Then there is no happiness for me," Izayoi muttered angrily.

Inutaisho stretched his arm out slowly and took a long, smooth lock of Izayoi's hair. He coiled it about his fingers and then released it, only to move the same hand up to Izayoi's shoulder and neck. He trailed the tips of his claws over her skin, following the curve of her neck and then her jaw to her lips. Izayoi could not stop herself from relaxing with longing. Her eyes slid gradually over to watch Inutaisho's face, she leaned into his touch.

He offered her a small, closed-lip smile. "I am sorry for frightening you. I am sorry for Takemaru's cruelty—but I care too much about you to take advantage of you or to risk harming you. The scars on your legs—I feel as though I inflicted them. From the moment Sesshomaru brought you bleeding and sickly from Kagetsu palace, I pitied you and admired you. It will grieve me to give you to Takemaru, Izayoi—but it is for the best."

Izayoi's eyes felt too tired and dry to cry anymore, but the tears came from somewhere, squeezed out by even more by his affection than by his harshness. Words spilled from her as freely as the tears. "I love you. I have loved you since I met you as a little girl. I thought of you constantly at Kagetsu—"

"Hush," Inutaisho ordered in a thick whisper. "You'll regret sharing this in the future. I'm sorry but this is the way it must be."

He pulled away from her, getting to his feet and moving for the door. Izayoi watched him go numbly. Her mind was empty but her heart was as heavy as lead.

_If I cannot be with him, if I cannot have him, there is nothing left for me in this life. _

_

* * *

Endnote: _Again, I had trouble with this chapter, it just didn't want to flow right for me. I hope it's not clear to any of you though. As always i really, really, really appreciate reviews. So if you have the time, tell me what you thought. _  
_


	22. Izayoi: Dreams

A/N: **Anonymous reviewer A. Lu: THANK YOU!** Those were quite probably the most wonderful, encouraging words I've ever had! And they come at a great time. I swear I'm going to print your review off and hang it up to remind myself to have faith. I just had a rejection by Daw, which was incredibly disheartening. The publishing business is just incredibly hard to get into, and everyone tells me I'm talented and to keep going, but it's easy to lose faith. Talent just doesn't seem to matter to the publishing industry. It's really depressing. But it made my day to read your kind words (as well as everyone else's too, last chapter had lots of supportive reviews so THANK YOU to everyone!) and I wanted to give that shout out **THANK YOU** for reaching out to me. And someday if you need help pitching your work somewhere I'll be glad to help you (though exactly how much my help is worth is anyone's guess considering I am not yet published either with 3 novels under my belt and millions of fanfiction words). Keep on writing, because any talent I have I got by practice, practice, practice. Someday we'll swap novels and squeal together in delight.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Wish I did. Then I would not be poor.

* * *

Last Chapter: Izayoi wanted to read smutty books in Chinese, so she went on a quest to learn it, which eventually brought her to Inutaisho as the resident expert. And then she decided to try and seduce Inutaisho, but her attempt backfired as Inutaisho figured her out. Instead he used the situation to impart a warning to her, the same one he started the chapter off with. Dog demons and humans don't pair off. It's dangerous. When he left her after this second rejection, Izayoi felt that if she couldn't escape marriage with Takemaru and be Inutaisho's lover instead there was just not much reason to keep living.

* * *

"A Morning Dream" by Li Ching Chao (Mid and Last Stanzas)

Together we saw lotus roots as big as boats.  
Together we ate jujubes as huge as melons.  
We were the guests of those on swaying lotus seats.  
They spoke in splendid language,  
Full of subtle meanings.  
The argued with sharp words over paradoxes.  
We drank tea brewed on living fire.

Why did I have to return to my former home,  
Wake up, dress, sit in meditation.  
Cover my ears to shut out the disgusting racket.  
My heart knows I can never see my dream come true.  
At least I can remember  
That world and sigh.

* * *

Izayoi

(Journal)

There is no greater happiness than being in the arms of the one who loves you. Whatever happens to me in my next life, I will never regret what we have shared.

* * *

**Dreams **

For two days Izayoi contemplated death. She dreamt of her clan, her family, all of them in the afterlife. It was a gray, wet world, filled with the moans and tears of the dead. The souls of those in between rebirths. Izayoi felt sure that her parents were there, and much of her clan, watching her actions with a wide variety of reactions. She saw faces she had not known, and some she had, passing by her. Some touched with love, others pinched and scowled.

In the daylight hours Izayoi was a ghost, a shell. She mimed the activities of a student but acted so lackluster and tired that soon Yosuda sent her back to her room with instructions to sleep. Izayoi had no appetite, no interest in any of the meals she was served. She sipped tea and barely felt its warmth while the taste escaped her completely.

She saw guards in the hallways and noticed their swords. She considered how she could get a hold of one and use it, plunging it inside her belly, but Izayoi was not a fan of pain. She knew death could be swift or it could drag its feet. Her brothers had died slowly of illness, with fevers that they suffered with for a week at least before succumbing. She herself had endured devastating illness twice, once with the poison and infection in her legs, the other time when she had survived the fever that killed her brothers. Izayoi had no desire to endure a slow death.

Izayoi's mother had died quickly, however. In the blood she lost in childbirth. Her life had gushed out of her, a fountain, wellspring. It was unstoppable and it took Izayoi's mother with it. Now that Izayoi bled each month she could understand how this unseen part of her body could kill her. It would be like a current that sucked her under and pulled her out to drown in the depths of the sea where no one could reach her. There had to be other places in the body that could kill with speed like that.

She planned to ask Yosuda, but by the time she had woken up the following day, Izayoi already felt better. Her heart was heavy, her mind burdened, but Izayoi was a survivor. As time passed her mind and body naturally pushed aside its grievances. It became easier to pretend she was interested in Yosuda's lessons, and she started to feel her stomach again. She ate to fill its hollowness and noticed scents and tastes a little too.

In the evening of the third day after Inutaisho had humiliated and rejected her, he sought her out. It was the last thing Izayoi had expected.

"Do you no longer have an interest in learning Chinese?" Inutaisho asked after she had bowed to him. "I have missed our lessons."

Izayoi sat up and stared at the great, pale lord. His face seemed somber and heavy, his eyes darker than usual. His stance was stiff; his hands were tucked behind his back. Part of Izayoi saw him and knew he had suffered too. The rest of her was numb, silent.

"I apologize," Izayoi muttered. "It would be worthwhile to resume our lessons."

Inutaisho smiled tightly and nodded. "I'm glad you think so—I'll see you then after your classes conclude. In the courtyard garden again."

Izayoi bowed formally. "Yes."

"Good," Inutaisho barked and then lingered awkwardly for a moment. Izayoi could not see his face, only his booted feet. She thought he would speak again but he walked away, his feet thumping on the floor in a firm, confident tread, leading away from Izayoi and her room.

It was unusual enough that Izayoi could not stop herself from hoping, from wondering if persistence and bravery would win her a future with the Lord of the Western Lands after all.

* * *

The letters coming from the Setsuna clan were all impatient, crotchety. Takemaru and his family asked the same question repeatedly and expressed their displeasure with Inutaisho. They said he was delaying the marriage, stalling, trying to keep Izayoi as his own personal hostage. It was despicable and they urged Izayoi to run away.

Izayoi patiently and politely defended Inutaisho. The Setsuna clan had been told that Inutaisho could not escort Izayoi to the Takeyabu province for a variety of reasons each week and month. First it was that the heavy summer rains had come. Then the heat. Then there was fighting and dissention in the Western Lands. Now more rain had come. Izayoi backed up each of Inutaisho's excuses. Yes, it had indeed rained quite hard during the beginning of summer, and heat was very uncomfortable and dangerous to travel in, just as the rain was. And in the ideal time that Inutaisho would and should have escorted Izayoi to the Setsuna clan the great dog demon had truly been absorbed by strife.

Izayoi did not elaborate on the strife out of respect for Inutaisho's privacy. The Setsuna clan would not take pity on Inutaisho for his inability to trust Sesshomaru or order his son's death for disloyalty. Izayoi was sure that the wedding would indeed take place, but it would be in very late fall or in the spring of the following year. Privately Izayoi prayed that the snow would come and close all the passes for good.

She never wanted to leave Nejiro Castle or Inutaisho.

* * *

Summer waned with increasing speed into full-fledged fall. The leaves on the trees in both courtyards—the decorative and smaller inner gardens where Izayoi and Inutaisho had their Chinese lessons as well as the outer gardens beyond that were filled with maples and cherry trees—began to change the color of their plumage over from green to orange, yellow, gold, and brilliant crimson.

The letters from the Setsuna clan stopped coming abruptly. At first Izayoi didn't notice when they were later than what she expected. Then, as time slipped by with increasing speed and she began to wake in the morning to feel the brisk air of fall, Izayoi realized she was supposed to be in the Takeyabu province already, preparing to marry into the Setsuna clan. Shouldn't she have heard from them?

Izayoi went through her lessons that day and then walked to the inner courtyard to meet Inutaisho as she always did, only to find that the tall, lithe, white-haired figure lingering about the gardens was not actually Inutaisho at all.

It was Sesshomaru.

Izayoi let out a yelp the moment she recognized him. The heir of the Western Lands had shorter hair because he was younger and a slighter frame, but he was no less impressive and imposing to Izayoi. It was easy to mistake the son for the father from a distance. Other humans who only knew these creatures in passing would not be able to detect a difference in age or basic appearance. But Izayoi knew these details as well as their mannerisms. And as the inuyoukai in the garden tilted his head, reacting to Izayoi's tread on the path, Izayoi had a first inkling that something was amiss.

Then she saw his hand move, a slight flick of the wrist. It was so subtle, so easily unnoticed—yet Izayoi also knew it was not one of Inutaisho's mannerisms. It looked much more like a tic of Shiroihana's.

Izayoi started to lift her voice to shout for help, at once assuming that this was some kind of trap, an attempt on her life—but Inutaisho called her name, silencing her fears. He was further down the short path, in the pavilion, sitting at ease. Izayoi relaxed the moment she realized he was present, but she could not stop herself from staring warily at Sesshomaru's back as she charged past him toward the pavilion.

"Lord Inutaisho!" She sat directly in front of him, as the confidant she had been for months now, and bowed deeply. Inutaisho grunted to acknowledge her. "What's going on?" she asked him.

Inutaisho's lips and jaw were tight, but his golden eyes bright with what Izayoi read as satisfaction. "Sesshomaru has come to see me."

"I know," Izayoi murmured, a little peeved at him for the obviousness of the explanation.

"I have been expecting this visit for some time," Inutaisho went on. The words were directed as much at Sesshomaru as they were at Izayoi. "Sesshomaru and I have reaffirmed allegiance to one another. He is my heir, my fine son, and I am glad to have him at my side." Then Inutaisho's lips parted in a huge grin and he turned his full attention to Izayoi. "And I have you to thank for it."

"Me?" Izayoi squeaked, perturbed by the strangeness and unexpectedness of the event.

"Father?" Sesshomaru said. "The girl?" He was a distant and cool voice. Izayoi snuck a peek at Sesshomaru and saw that he looked thoroughly bored, enigmatic and graceful as always with his twin markings flowing over his cheeks.

"Yes the girl," Inutaisho barked, still grinning as he looked between them both. "I could have had you killed—don't forget that. This girl—" as he spoke, Inutaisho took Izayoi's hand and tugged it with him as he stood upright. "—constantly encouraged me to spare you. In spite of all the misery you and that spiteful bitch caused her." He lifted Izayoi's hand as if he was going to offer it up to Sesshomaru or make the two of them hold hands and pose for a portrait painter. "This girl is a wellspring of compassion. You would do well to emulate her, Sesshomaru."

Sesshomaru did not look particularly swayed by his father's enthusiasm. Izayoi expected that at any moment he would begin chewing on his claws, testing their sharpness against his equally sharp teeth. "I have no interest in harming her, Chichiue. There is no need to humiliate me."

"Feh," Inutaisho barked and then started growling. "If you ever expect to inherit any of my swords I expect you to behave with honor and decency."

Sesshomaru jutted his chin into the air. It was obvious that Inutaisho had insulted his son's pride. "This Sesshomaru has never acted with anything but distinction."

Izayoi fidgeted, uncomfortable with the undercurrent of anger and bitterness between father and son. Her first impression had been of unease—now it intensified. She knew what Inutaisho wanted from his son, but also sensed the pointlessness of asking for it. Sesshomaru did not have compassion just as fish didn't have feet. Yet Izayoi also knew that as a father and as a creature that did possess compassion—oodles of it in fact—Inutaisho could not stop himself from picking on his son, from trying to get Sesshomaru to change.

She decided to try and interrupt the approaching argument. _"Teacher,"_ she said, speaking in Chinese to Inutaisho though he wasn't paying her any attention for the moment, _"is there no class today?"_

Her distraction worked not only on Inutaisho, but also on Sesshomaru. Izayoi took in both their responses and shrank back into herself, embarrassedly. Sesshomaru wore an unkindly glare in the slant of his golden eyes, the tiny downward tuck of his lips.

"Chichiue has taught this girl the language of the mainland?" Sesshomaru asked without ceasing his glaring. Izayoi noticed the younger lord's armor, wicked in its shape, curling over the shoulder. _How rude of him to wear it inside,_ she thought. Inutaisho was not armored at all though he did wear the old dinged up katana blade that Izayoi often saw at his hip. It seemed to suggest that Inutaisho planned to attack and Sesshomaru to defend.

There might have been a reaffirmation of loyalty between father and son, but it had little meaning as far as Izayoi could see.

Inutaisho ignored Sesshomaru's question and his clear disapproval. Instead he smiled at Izayoi and answered her in Chinese. _"There is always a lesson to learn, Daughter."_

Sesshomaru only bristled more at being ignored. "Chichiue must not debase himself—"

"Hush," Inutaisho snapped, growling. "From this moment on no one is allowed to speak unless it is in Chinese. Lady Izayoi is right—there is a lesson in progress."

"Father," Sesshomaru insisted, lowering his voice from his usual controlled remoteness to something quicker and darker.

"_Father," _Inutaisho corrected using Chinese with a curt bark.

Sesshomaru turned to the right, as if about to charge out of the small garden courtyard, but the abrupt, stiff movement stopped there for a moment, paused. Sesshomaru peered out of the corner of his eye, one golden iris like candlelight peeping through a hole in a screened wall. _Father," _he said, using Chinese obediently. _"I am going."_

"Then go," Inutaisho ordered with a snarl, breaking his own rules about Chinese.

Izayoi watched as Sesshomaru left the courtyard, his body flowing as smoothly and beautiful as a stream. He was as cruel as snow, and just as enchanting. One could be freezing to death outdoors in the winter and still admire the snow for its beauty. Sesshomaru was the same.

"Come," Inutaisho ordered abruptly, directing her with his gentle, casual touch. "I have something to give you."

Inutaisho shepherded Izayoi back to the pavilion where they sat together on small pillow cushions. As Inutaisho reached inside his white haori and brought out a small deerskin sack, he apologized for the surprise of Sesshomaru's presence. "I had no knowledge of when he would arrive. I wanted to see how he would react to you, especially when he knows that I favor you and you are under my protection. It was my hope to dissuade him from ever working for Shiroihana to hurt you."

"Thank you," Izayoi murmured though her gaze was on the deerskin bag. It was a soft brown-orange and easily eclipsed in size by Inutaisho's large, powerful hands. Yet Izayoi could hear something tinkling inside, like small stones or pebbles. "Did you feel it was a success?"

Inutaisho scowled. "It's impossible to tell." He extended the deerskin bag out to Izayoi and when she reached for it, Inutaisho caught her hand within his own in a quick movement. Their gazes locked, honeyed gold to dark chocolate brown. "While he is here at Nejiro you must be on your guard. Assume that you are in even greater danger because I value you."

Izayoi nodded and then, because she could not help but do it, found herself watching his lips, admiring them. When they opened and formed a smile full of white, sharp teeth, Izayoi directed her eyes elsewhere immediately. Her cheeks burned. Time had passed since the night he had rejected her, but neither had forgotten it, or the words that had passed between them. The more time that Izayoi had to look back on it, the more she knew in her gut that Inutaisho had similar feelings for her, but he was also a sort of chameleon, an actor. He hid his reciprocating desire, buried it and displayed a fatherly affection and privilege instead.

Inutaisho released Izayoi's hand, leaving the deerskin pouch with her as well. He continued to smile affectionately as he explained the gift. "This is a necklace of jade from the mainland. I want you to have it, Lady Izayoi. Should you ever be destitute and in need of something valuable, break the links in the necklace and trade the pieces for goods or services."

Izayoi pulled the pouch open and turned it upside down, letting the necklace fall onto her open palm. It was a startling teal in color, similar to the plumage of a peacock. Her mouth fell open and she grinned with delight. "Thank you." She clutched the necklace in her palm as she bowed deeply to him. Her long black hair fell over her shoulders, flowing around her. "I will treasure it and do just as Lord Inutaisho has suggested."

"Good," Inutaisho said, laughing. "If only my son could have expressed such sincerity and joy when I gave him gifts."

The words were bitter in content, yet Inutaisho did not sound saddened when he spoke them. Izayoi decided not to say anything as she loaded the jade necklace slowly back into its deerskin pouch and tightened the drawstrings once more. She shook the sack gently to hear the tinkling and clicking sound of the jade pieces as they collided together.

"I will have to give you gifts more often," Inutaisho murmured in a deep voice.

Izayoi looked up at him, startled by the huskiness of his voice. Inutaisho was watching her intently, smiling openheartedly, yet Izayoi had known him long enough to be able to detect the darker gleam in his golden eyes. She had not seen it all that often, but it was coming with increasing frequency, sneaking into his eyes. It tightened her stomach and made her palms itch with sweat.

"You're too kind," Izayoi said, echoing formal words of thanks except that she addressed Inutaisho informally, a privilege that not even Sesshomaru invoked. She had been more guarded and reserved with Inutaisho since the debacle several weeks previously.

She tucked the deerskin pouch with its beautiful jade necklace into her obi and then sat with Inutaisho, conversing in Chinese as much as she could while the Lord of the West corrected her and added things occasionally. The lesson went by uneventfully and as the sun began to drop in the sky, Inutaisho sent Izayoi on her way.

By the time Izayoi had eaten dinner, undressed with Etsuko's help, and at last retired back to her room, she at last realized she had forgotten all about asking Inutaisho about when she would go to the Takeyabu province as well as the lack of letters she had been receiving. She sat at her writing table and stared at the ink, the brush, and the untouched paper, agonizing over what to say. At last Izayoi wrote a short note, asking about Takemaru's health and the wellbeing of his family. She folded it and addressed it, then went to bed.

* * *

That night she had many dreams. Many of them were the usual bizarre snippets of images and memories that commonly made up her dreams. She was eating pickles with Takemaru as a small child in Kagetsu palace, then she was sitting in the bath with Shiroihana while the demon woman glowered at her. But then, through these meaningless dreams of nothing, Izayoi found herself in a foreign place, walking down a wooden verandah that encircled a large, tall building. It had eaves in the same style as Nejiro castle, but as Izayoi passed a man on the verandah she saw that his clothing was different than any she had seen. It was not folded correctly and had buttons to close it, rather than a sash or an obi of any kind.

Izayoi tramped along the wood with her bare feet, hurrying faster though she had no idea why there was any reason to be urgent. She found herself checking the wall of the building, trying to find a door. The wall was solid, not a screen at all. Izayoi could find no entrance though she circled several times—and then she collided with a woman.

Izayoi fell backward with a jolt and stared up at the woman she had run into sheepishly. She began to bow with grave formality as she registered the woman's wrists—there were purple markings there, jagged streaks. The woman was a demon. "Please forgive my clumsiness."

The woman knelt low to be almost at the same level as Izayoi. "Look at me," she ordered gently.

Izayoi obeyed though she did not want to do it. She expected Shiroihana's cold beauty, her cruel smirk of a smile. Instead Izayoi found herself staring at a demon woman she had never seen before. She had white hair like all of the dog demons that Izayoi had met, but unlike them this woman had eyes that were not quite the honeyed gold of Inutaisho and his family. Her eyes had a greenish tint. She had a pleasant face, filled with even and refined features. She was not as beautiful as Shiroihana, but Izayoi knew with the foreknowledge of all dreamers that this inuyoukai woman was kind and gentle.

"Lady Izayoi," the demon woman said, smiling. "What a pleasure it is to meet you."

It took Izayoi a long moment to realize that the demon woman was speaking Chinese.

"How do you know my name?" Izayoi asked.

The demon woman extended her hand and Izayoi accepted it in spite of her reservations. Izayoi winced as the demon woman moved forward but relaxed as soon as she felt the gentle touch on her hair. It made her think of Inutaisho at once.

The demon woman chuckled. "I see you like that. My son is fond of your hair. He is fond of you."

Izayoi blinked and pulled backwards so that she could see the demon woman's face again. "Your son?"

"Yes," she said. "My name is Kiremono. And I've come to help you."

Izayoi shook her head. Emotions were bubbling inside her, magnified beyond what Izayoi thought was normal. "I don't know you."

"How could you? I have been dead more than 2 centuries now, child. So long that I've almost forgotten the language of the islands."

Kiremono's words had slipped between Chinese and Japanese. It was as if Kiremono could read Izayoi's mind and anticipate whether she knew enough of the language to understand what was being said. Izayoi had heard _centuries, islands, _and _forgotten_ in Japanese because she didn't know the Chinese words for those terms.

"Who are you?" Izayoi demanded, giving into some of her mounting emotions.

A bell began tolling in the distance, ringing out over the land. Izayoi tried to see beyond the verandah and the shadow of the building but it was shrouded in thick fog. When she looked back at Kiremono Izayoi saw that the demon woman's colors were leaching away, like ink from a paper.

"Listen to me," Kiremono said rapidly, harsh with urgency. "Go to my son's room. Beneath the tatami matting there are small compartments, hidden by false floors. Search through them until you find a black stone that freezes your fingers and whispers in your ears."

"Then what?" Izayoi demanded helplessly. "Who is your son?"

The demon woman was completely black and white now, and she seemed to be fading, paling. She vanished into the mists without another word.

* * *

Izayoi woke to see that the sun had just begun to rise outside. The light just behind the closed window slats was gray. She laid her head back down and stared at the ceiling though she could not clearly see it. Nejiro Castle was silent, dead asleep around her.

It was not quite time for Izayoi to get up and go about her day, but she was wide awake, alert and energized. Though the air in her room was chilly with the gathering chill of the fall air outside, Izayoi wasn't cold as she rolled up and away from her futon. Normally she was tidy and orderly, making up the covers slightly, or possibly folding them and setting them at the bottom of the futon. Now she stared at them and breathed very slowly. Her mind was abuzz from within, absorbed by the dream she had just emerged from.

In the dream she had not been able to make sense of Kiremono. Awake it was very clear just who the demon woman had been. She was Inutaisho's mother.

"_Most honorable mother," _Inutaisho had said of her. He had been very close with his mother.

Izayoi felt a gentle tug on her night robe, as if a breeze had stirred it. She turned her head and looked in the direction of her door. It called to her, summoned her to the hall. Heedless of her crooked night robe, of her loose and uncombed hair, messy from sleep, Izayoi ventured into the hall. It was empty and echoed with her footsteps. Izayoi was nervous and alert, searching all around her as she walked.

She reached the corridor where Inutaisho and Sesshomaru's bed chambers were located, as well as the library with its vast collection in Chinese. Izayoi crouched at the top of the last stair and looked out at the closed doors of the rooms. She strained her ears to listen for something even though she already knew in her gut that she would hear nothing whether anyone was there sleeping in a room or not. Inutaisho surely didn't snore and the very thought of Sesshomaru making a noise while sleeping or walking or eating or anything was preposterous.

_Sesshomaru is here,_ she recalled. _Inutaisho will not be sleeping. _He would be with his son or roaming the castle while Sesshomaru did the same. Guard dogs did not sleep while on alert and Inutaisho had as good as told Izayoi that he still thought of Sesshomaru as a threat.

With newfound confidence, Izayoi rushed forward in a lurch, light on her small feet. She burst into the room where Inutaisho had found her in the dark weeks ago and given her the ruthless warning against trying to seduce him. Izayoi didn't know with any certainty that this was Inutaisho's room, but it was the nearest to the stairs. That meant it was first.

Izayoi pushed the slats in the window wide open, flooding the room with the gray-yellow light of predawn. Izayoi blinked at it and shook her head, letting her eyes adjust, then she went to the nearest corner and pulled on the tatami matting. It was thick and difficult to roll back but with an effort and a few indelicate grunts, Izayoi hauled it back far enough to look at the wooden flooring beneath. There was nothing that she could pry up with her short, blunt nails in the first corner so Izayoi moved to the next.

She had hoped to discover the hidden compartments early, in the first room, but although there were signs of habitation as if Inutaisho did occasionally use the room, Izayoi found nothing beneath the tatami mats. Frustrated and sweating with nervousness and effort, Izayoi hurried from the first room and barged into the second. She pushed open the slats on this room's window too, letting the early dawn sunlight illuminate the bedroom. It was beginning to be pinkish now and brighter. Izayoi sensed that her time could be running very short.

She rolled the corners of every tatami mat in the room one at a time and then pawed at the floor feverishly, trying to uncover something. The second room also showed some signs of habitation, which further confused Izayoi. Did Inutaisho sleep in two different rooms? Inside the first one there had been a robe, neatly folded, and the colorful sash that Inutaisho often wore with his armor. In this second room some of the armor itself was stacked against a wall or mounted. Izayoi didn't know which sign was the one to trust. Neither futon looked as though it had been slept in during the night, not that that was an indicator at all for a dog demon of habitation.

Beneath the final tatami, a smaller square shaped one in the far corner beside the massive, sprawling futon, Izayoi at last found the secret compartments. They were beneath false boards that had not been set into the floor properly. Izayoi pried them up with her fingertips and frowned with disgust as she saw the cobwebs inside the narrow compartments. Several of the boards were unsecured in the same manner. Izayoi found them when she tapped the wood and it made a hollow sound, or when they shifted loosely under her hands.

Each compartment had small lacquered boxes in red and black, as well as countless sacks and pouches. Many of them were reminiscent of the deerskin one that Inutaisho had given to Izayoi with the jade necklace inside. Curiosity slowed Izayoi down as she fished out the little boxes and tried to open them, or opened the little pouches and bags, dumping out little mysteries treasures from each one onto her hand each time.

There was a dog figurine, carved in rich ivory. A strip of paper accompanying it was unreadable to Izayoi, in a language she had never seen before. She found glittering shards of an unknown material that formed sharp edges. She cut her palm when she first handled it and hissed with the bite of the unexpected pain. She cautiously put it back in its pouch and tied the knot shut afterwards. As she did so, Izayoi left little touches of her blood on the strings and the pouch.

Inside the first lacquered box she explored, Izayoi found a miniature scroll with an image on it. This one was in Japanese and it was a portrait of sorts. The creatures on it were all dog demons with white hair and cheek markings. Izayoi did not recognize any of them, but she could make out and recognize the bright gold of their eyes. They had to be relatives of Inutaisho's, all of them were male. The names were foreign and longwinded: _Himarugachi, Machitekishi…_others.

A drop of Izayoi's blood smeared over the lacquered box when she closed it up with the scroll rerolled inside. Izayoi used her gray robe to wipe it away, staining the garment. Next she pulled out a white lacquered box and opened it. Inside she found a black stone set in a necklace the color of bronze. It was large and filled the small box to the brim. Izayoi tried to grip it but her hand burned where she had cut it and the blood that oozed onto her fingers and to the necklace made it slippery. At last in frustration, Izayoi turned the beautiful little box upside down and the black stone and its necklace of bronze tumbled out onto the wooden floor in a loud crack and jangle.

Izayoi held her breath and listened to see if anyone would come running. A minute passed and nothing sounded to break the thick silence of the dawn. Hurriedly, Izayoi set the box aside and snatched up the black stone. She lifted it and tilted it this way and that to catch the light. She knew almost nothing about valuable gems, but Izayoi had seen flint often because it was used to light household hearths, cooking fires, and braziers in bedrooms for light and warmth. She thought at first that perhaps the stone was flint, shaped in some strange, magical way because it was so black and smooth, but as it caught the light, Izayoi saw deep purple in its depths.

Then she realized that the stone felt _cold._ It was as if she had picked it up out of a snow drift in the dead of winter. Izayoi's world shrank down to the heavy necklace and its bizarre stone as her focus intensified with the realization that _this_ was why she had come up here. _This_ was what her dream had sent her to find.

_But why?_ Izayoi had never had a dream guide her before; she had never spoken to dead dog demon women who claimed to be Inutaisho's mother.

The realization of how peculiar the situation was struck Izayoi anew and she lowered the stone, disturbed. There were tales that the dead who were not immediately reborn usually had ambitions of their own, agendas that were always dangerous to the living. Mediums and seers who were at all foolish—and any everyday person who happened to run across the dead—were likely to lose their lives, their souls, or something else very dear to them by trusting the dead.

Izayoi tentatively positioned the stone in her hands, enfolding it between her palms. The cold surface stung and made her grit her teeth together.

Voices began to whisper, so faint that Izayoi thought she had hallucinated them. She hopped up and looked about the room, desperate to hide, certain she was hearing a servant or Inutaisho or Sesshomaru coming back to the rooms. But the voices did not get any louder and very quickly Izayoi realized that at least one of them was speaking in Chinese. There were other languages too. When she focused on the gibberish ones Izayoi lost count of the number of voices. They seemed to swell, filling her head.

"_The Dog General loves you." "Daughter! Daughter!" "You shame us, filthy whore." "You dishonor the Miyabita!" "Daughter, I miss you!" "Kill the Dog!" "You will die in a fiery blaze!" "You will kill Inutaisho." "You will bring life to an abomination!" "Your love for Inutaisho will kill you." "Takemaru will kill you." "You must not go to bed with Inutaisho!" "Inutaisho will kill you!"_

Izayoi let out a cry and dropped the heavy stone with its necklace to the ground. The voices vanished as the necklace clattered to a stop with the black stone facing the floor. Izayoi stood above it, shaking at the knees, clutching her hands together, breathing hard. She stared at the necklace for a time, as if it would start running for her to attack. Then, weak from the adrenaline rush of the find, her small injury, the risk of being caught, Izayoi sank down to the matting on her knees.

"What do I do now?" she whispered at the air. The light outside had changed, becoming golden. The sun had crested the horizon, risen over the mountaintops. Izayoi's time had run out. Down in her bed chambers the maids would already be looking for her, to take her to the bath.

_I can't be caught again,_ Izayoi thought. She snatched up the black stone necklace and shoved it sloppily back into its white lacquered box, heedless of the smeared blood her hand left there. She put back every pouch and box and then replaced the floorboards and the matting. Then, as fast but as cautiously as she could, Izayoi slipped out of the room and down the stairway.

By the time she reached her room, Izayoi was exhausted. A passing maid snatched her and dragged her to the bathhouse. They fussed over her cut hand, questioning her about it. Izayoi lied poorly, claiming to have cut herself while handling the flint used to light the brazier in her room. Before she climbed into the bathwater, which was steadily cooling, the maids had brought out a bowl to wash up her cut and then wound it with some fabric to create a makeshift bandage.

Afterwards Izayoi wore a thick, plush bathrobe as she went up to the dressing room where Etsuko was waiting with a kimono ready. It was themed for autumn with an orange under robe and a yellow and brown outer robe with embroidered leaves and dried chrysanthemums. The obi was a deep brown, simplistic and tied in the usual bow.

Just as Etsuko had finished the obi, Inutaisho arrived. At once Izayoi knew something was amiss. Inutaisho's face was hard-set, his jaw firm and his eyes narrowed. Etsuko dropped into a deep bow and muttered the formal greetings. Izayoi hesitated for a moment, trying to smile, but then she too dropped into a deep and formal bow.

"Get out," Inutaisho growled at Etsuko.

The other young woman rose and obeyed, but as she walked past Inutaisho she paused and looked over her shoulder at where Izayoi was still deep in her bow with the bronze and silver mirrors lining the corner and the wall behind. Izayoi and Etsuko had a second to lock gazes before the maid was gone. In that moment Izayoi had a surge of connection. For all of her harshness, Etsuko was concerned. She did care. Izayoi could almost hear what Etsuko was saying inwardly: _You have the charm. _

Izayoi wore it every day. Supposedly it would hurt anyone who tried to touch her with bad intentions. Inutaisho had never been harmed, but would he be so upset now that he would test it out?

"Stand up," Inutaisho ordered curtly.

Izayoi rose obediently. She lifted her head and did her best to appear innocent. "My lord?"

His eyes were large now but trained pointedly on her. The golden color was aflame. He took a large step closer to her before speaking. "I smelled your blood in my room. On my most important possessions. Let me see your hands."

Izayoi lifted them and at once Inutaisho snatched her arm, hauling her closer. He was after the injured hand and brusquely untied the fabric of her bandage to look at the wound. He squinted at it and his nostrils flared. Then his shoulders fell and he let out a long breath. He was still staring down at her hand when he spoke. "You could have poisoned yourself. I have some terrible things in my possession. Evil spells and items. I didn't know everything you handled."

"Poison?" Izayoi asked quietly.

Inutaisho hadn't looked away from her hand, he was still examining it. "You would already be ill if you had touched it. your hands would be burned."

Now that the danger had seemingly passed, Izayoi gave into her tension and began to quiver a little "I'm sorry, Lord Inutaisho—I—"

Inutaisho interrupted her. "I never want to smell your blood like that again," he growled. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Izayoi replied, sensing that there was no other acceptable answer.

"What were you doing there? How did you know—how did you find…" Inutaisho curled his lip and shook his head. Anger reappeared in his expression and Izayoi shrank from it. She had no idea how to explain what had propelled her and wasn't sure if doing so would make him think anything except that she was out of her mind.

Suddenly Inutaisho embraced her, enveloping her in his powerful, burly arms. His scent surrounded Izayoi and she let out a small sound of surprise before clinging to him. He was taller than she was by a large degree and had lifted her to her tiptoes. Izayoi tried to support herself but found it impossible as Inutaisho kept his hold on her. Soon she was pressed to him and could feel the heat of his body through both sets of clothes.

Inutaisho swept aside the long flow of her black hair, still wet from the bath, and inhaled deeply. His breath tickled, hot and moist on her skin. Izayoi shivered at it. Then his lips closed around her earlobe and Izayoi gasped with shock and then with delight. She leaned more into him, putting her weight and her complete trust in him, resting her head against his.

"You frightened me," he whispered into her ear. One of his hands, large and burly but also tender, rose up to her neck and held Izayoi firmly. It was a possessive grasp and Izayoi's heart and breath picked up the longer he held her. Izayoi could feel his fingers moving, tickling, along the curve of her neck and shoulder.

When he pulled back Izayoi's throat constricted, her chest ached. She knew he would leave now and they would return to their roles as the impossible father and daughter duo.

But that was not what happened. Instead Inutaisho took her hand, opening it to expose the palm where Izayoi had cut herself. She held her breath and winced as he stretched the wound while examining it. He reapplied the bandage meticulously, only occasionally glancing away from his work. When at last he had finished Inutaisho peered at her while still holding her hand. His golden eyes skipped over her face and then dropped, roaming over her lips, her chin, her neck…

"You held the Meidou-seki," Inutaisho murmured softly. Izayoi said nothing though she did not know which trinket Inutaisho meant until he finished his sentence by adding, "What did you hear?"

"Voices," she whispered. "More than I could count."

"Any that you knew? That you could understand?" Inutaisho probed. His clawed hands squeezed her hand.

"No," she muttered, looking away. She saw their reflections in the mirrors just behind and to the left. Inutaisho holding her hand, Izayoi fully dressed but leaning against him, standing atop the small platform where she was elevated to make the dressing process a little easier. Even with the added platform height Inutaisho still dwarfed the human girl.

Inutaisho let go of her hands to hold her chin instead, turning her to face him. The dark gleam had entered his eyes again, but now it was mixed with amusement, something Izayoi could clearly identify. "Have I scared you away yet, little Izayoi?"

She answered without hesitation though her voice wanted to break as she found herself fighting the emotions within. "You could never scare me away."

Inutaisho swooped in abruptly, capturing her lips in a warm kiss. Izayoi responded at once, pressing into him eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck. Inutaisho let out a deep sound, a rumble in his chest that Izayoi felt as well as heard. His hands brushed over her body, the claws scratching faintly on the silk of her obi and kimono. Izayoi laced her fingers through his hair, astonished and giddy as she took in how soft it was, as perfect as the silk wrapped around her body. Then, by feel along, Izayoi found the gap between his skin and his haori and slipped her hand inside. She felt the tenseness and bulge of the muscles at the base of his neck before they opened to his broad back. Her small hands had never served her better for their size. They could fit easily between fabric and skin and her slightest exploratory touch prompted unexpectedly large reactions from Inutaisho.

His breathing changed, hitching in his throat. Then he was invading her mouth with his tongue, tasting her. His hands were not small and could not easily pass in the narrow spaces between fabric and skin, but experience was on his side. His hands dropped lower from her neck to her legs. Her kimono wrapped about her legs rather than billowing out and Inutaisho did not have to feel very long before he found the edge of the kimono and parted it, slipping his hands inside to reach the flesh of Izayoi's thighs.

The touch made Izayoi gasp. She broke the kiss and stared into Inutaisho's face, wide-eyed and wild with amazement. Her body ached, craving more and more while her mind reeled with astonishment and pleasure. Inutaisho grinned at her carnally and kissed her again, delving in and tasting her mouth before tickling her jaw line and her neck with his lips, tongue, and the tips of his fanged canines. Izayoi let her head fall back as the sensations washed over her. Her eyes rolled backward and her mouth fell open, curving in a wide, lazy smile.

Then—suddenly—Inutaisho moved away from her and turned to look at the door. He let out a growl of irritation and then looked back to where Izayoi was standing on the platform, glowering hungrily and flushed with the heady, delicious burn of desire.

"This is not the time or place," he said and at the same moment Izayoi registered the thump of a tread in the hallway and realized for the first time that the door to the dressing room was wide open.

"Lord Inutaisho," she said breathlessly. It sounded like a plea.

Apparently Inutaisho had heard it that way as well. He grinned wolfishly. "Come to my room tonight?" It was phrased as an order of sorts, but intoned as a question and Inutaisho hesitated, waiting for her answer.

"Yes," Izayoi said. She closed her eyes, haunted by the feel of his lips, his tongue, his taste and scent. _A thousand times yes. Every night, yes._

When she opened her eyes, Inutaisho was already stepping out of the room and a maid had entered looking irritable. "Lady Izayoi!" she crooned. "Your breakfast is getting cold!"

"I'm coming now," Izayoi said and stepped from the platform. As she did so, her bare leg showed through the seam at her legs. Inutaisho had loosened it in the feverish drive to touch her. Izayoi tried to adjust it but the maid clucked disapprovingly. Izayoi burned with embarrassment, certain that the maid would know what had caused the trouble, but the maid only said, "That Etsuko is so lazy! Now I find she cannot even dress you properly!"

Izayoi did not correct her mistake.

* * *

The rest of the day passed with grueling slowness. Izayoi's body seemed to be in upheaval. One moment she was sure she would vomit with the excitement and anticipation of seeing him again, other times she would feel giddy and have to hold her breath to keep from laughing. While she was supposed to be reading a text Yosuda had provided, Izayoi merely stared at the characters, failing to see them at all. When too much time had elapsed, Yosuda called her name, but she did not respond until he had raised his voice, cutting through her distracting fantasies.

"This is why I don't teach girls," Yosuda muttered, rolling his eyes and huffing. "Your sex has no attention span. Higher thoughts escape you."

Izayoi was content enough to ignore him, but then he added, "It's high time you were married. It's pointless to teach you anymore."

"I apologize for failing you, Teacher," Izayoi intoned formally. She remembered again that she had never asked Inutaisho about her marriage. But did she really have to ask any longer? If she became his lover then surely Inutaisho would not—could not—give her to Takemaru.

When it was time for her Chinese lesson, Izayoi was stiff with excitement, flushed as if she had run in circles around the entirety of Nejiro Castle all morning. Her mind was abuzz. When she came into the courtyard Izayoi's foot crunched on a dry maple leaf, shed from the small, decorative trees. The sound was crisp and refreshing—but also served as another reminder of the lateness of the season. The trees were already beginning to shed their leaves.

_I will have another winter at least with him,_ Izayoi thought as she rounded the corner and saw his tall, narrow frame—

Izayoi hesitated, her mind blanking. Just as yesterday afternoon this handsome, white apparition was not Inutaisho. It was Sesshomaru. The young heir's head swiveled and he pinned Izayoi under a cold pitiless stare.

"Izayoi!" Inutaisho shouted. There was no alarm, just as there had been none yesterday. Izayoi skirted around Sesshomaru, averting her eyes shyly. Inutaisho was seated on one of the cushions in the pavilion. At his side was another cushion, clearly reserved for Izayoi. It was a challenge to pretend that nothing had changed as Izayoi made herself comfortable. How had she acted before? Everything seemed changed, transformed like a landscape after a typhoon had swept through. Sesshomaru saw through her—he had to.

"Daughter," Inutaisho addressed her gruffly. Izayoi was immediately at attention. Her skin tingled as if reacting to Sesshomaru's accusatory stare. "We'll begin the lesson now." Inutaisho looked toward Sesshomaru and Izayoi cautiously did the same, swallowing thickly. Sesshomaru was staring blandly off in the direction of the nearest exit. _"Sesshomaru," _Inutaisho spoke in Chinese, _"are you going to stay?"_

Sesshomaru's body remained motionless, frozen. Only the golden color of his eyes moved, seeming to roll in his father's direction. _"Please excuse me, Father."_

Inutaisho grunted. "Keh—off with you then."

Sesshomaru ducked his head slightly. "Chichiue."

"I'll see you off tonight," Inutaisho said and waved his hand dismissively.

Izayoi stared at the embroidery in her kimono, fingering it idly, but inwardly she was listening to Sesshomaru's soft tread as it retreated away out of earshot.

"Sesshomaru has never enjoyed Chinese as it is spoken," Inutaisho muttered. Izayoi did not fail to notice the way his eyes stayed riveted to Sesshomaru, then on the door. The courtyard had several entrances around it. The location was by no means private. Any passing maid, guard, servant, or spy of any kind could observe them. That meant the lessons would be businesslike, no matter how much passion broiled just beneath the surface.

"He was not as unhappy today," Izayoi murmured. Sesshomaru had left his armor behind apparently. Whatever animosity remained it was not a constant thing. Persistence and the passage of time had a curiously positive effect. Inutaisho was also unarmed, dressed casually in a white and gray haori and hakama with a bright yellow sash. The only sign of any trouble was the fact that Inutaisho's long white hair was pinned up and back, flowing in a long stream down his back.

"Keh," Inutaisho snorted and smirked, meeting Izayoi's eyes with a glint of mirth. Shared joy and tension leapt between them, like lightning between the clouds and the earth. "Sesshomaru is always miserable at heart."

Izayoi leaned forward slightly, nodding. A smile crept over her lips, coy and knowing. "Lord Sesshomaru leaves tonight?" she paused and then, to try and hide her real intentions, added, "Where will he go?"

"He leaves tonight," Inutaisho told her. "For a remote palace in the mountains. A place where he can relax and find happiness." His face was straight, somber. Then, gradually, it relaxed. He reached for Izayoi, touching her hair tentatively at first, then pulling her by the arm until she was knee to knee with him. Izayoi offered no resistance at all, almost falling toward him. He pressed his cheek to her; almost rubbing his skin over hers like a cat would to touch his lips to her ear. "We must be secret," he said. "None will approve. Do you understand?"

Izayoi had closed her eyes, absorbing the warmth of his breath while she herself almost forgot to breathe. "Yes."

Inutaisho let her go, gently pushing her back to her spot on the cushion. They were silent for a moment, sharing a long, heated stare, then Inutaisho sniffed and blinked, a motion Izayoi recognized as clearing his head. Then, abruptly, he spoke in Chinese and the lesson began.

* * *

That night Izayoi made a show of being tired and sought out a maid earlier than usual to help her change out of her kimono with its multiple layers. She settled into the night robe, lighter and easy to get in and out of.

She reclined in bed for a few minutes, listening with a pounding heart to the noises of servants moving about outside. She knew it would quiet quickly at about two hours after the sun had set. As soon as it had, Izayoi leapt from her bed and snuck out of her room, closing the door behind her. Izayoi crept up stairs, wincing when they creaked, climbing higher and higher through Nejiro's levels. She passed maids and guards early in her journey and held her head high, pretending that she had some innocent purpose to be up and about in her night robe. Sometimes Izayoi pretended not to feel well, to be searching for a privy because she was going to be ill.

In spite of her nervousness, few people gave her more than a passing glance. They were tired and had their own lives to distract them. No one tried to stop her and soon Izayoi was in the upper heights of the castle, where the corridors were virtually abandoned. She moved with more speed then, bounding up stairs and trotting through halls with her small, rapid steps, until finally she had reached Inutaisho's corridor.

The doors on all of them rooms were shut—except for one. Orange light flickered on the screens and through the open entryway, spilling out into the corridor. It danced over the walls and the floor, painting them with living fire. Izayoi moved forward slowly, trancelike, almost disbelieving her own senses and memories. From the moment she had dreamt of Kiremono the day had been impossible, dreamlike. Now the surrealness struck her like a hammer blow, but Izayoi could not stop placing one foot in front of the other.

Then she was standing in the doorway, looking in. The brazier was smoldering, hissing. Izayoi could already feel the heat it threw out. Inutaisho sat with his back facing her, beside the window. It was the same window where he had held her by the throat and told her that she could not have him, that youkai and humans could not pair together. He was wearing a night robe as well, thin enough that the light could pass through it, throwing a shadow of his chest. Izayoi saw the wide splay of his shoulders, the muscles rolling like hills, bunched together, working in unison.

He inhaled sharply and those shoulders rose, lifting—and the sight made Izayoi's stomach and heart soar. "Little Izayoi," he murmured, turning slightly to peer at her. "Come sit with me."

She walked in obediently and sat at his side, but Inutaisho smoothly guided her to sit facing him instead—more his equal than his subservient. He caressed her cheek, then ran his fingers through her hair, winding his supple but strong fingers into the black strands.

"So innocent," Inutaisho murmured, almost purring as his palm, so large that it covered from her jaw to her temple, cupped Izayoi's face. "So sweet—yet you've come here hunting me down like a predator." His hand fell away and Izayoi fought the desire to snatch it back up, but Inutaisho leaned forward, examining her in the orange firelight. "Tell me what you want," he said huskily.

"What I want?" Izayoi whispered, perplexed. "I have all that I want." Her eyes did not leave his face. She gazed at him unabashedly, unashamed of her want.

Inutaisho smiled, briefly flashing his white teeth before closing his lips to cover them. "No—you do not realize it but you are innocent. You don't understand what you want from me. You're not ready for it yet and if I were foolish enough to do it—it would tarnish you, little Izayoi. It would harm you."

Izayoi scowled. "What are you saying?" Had she come all this way only to be rejected again?

He sighed and tenderly extended his hand, brushing his fingertips and claws along the underside of her chin. Izayoi shivered and closed her eyes, instinctually inching closer. "You don't know entirely what you want from me," Inutaisho mused aloud. "I've seen it before. Humans counsel their children to be chaste and ignorant, but for good reason. Your bodies awaken before your minds and your hearts are so deeply intertwined with the process…"

He withdrew his hand, leaving Izayoi bereft again, shivering with longing. She was only halfway listening to him until he asked, "How much do you know about the carnal act?"

Izayoi's eyes sprang open, along with her mouth. She let out a little yelp. "What?"

Inutaisho chuckled huskily. "It's exactly as I thought. Nothing. Your body knows, but your mind does not."

With a slow, heavy comprehension, Izayoi realized this was a _lesson._ She could not stop herself from frowning in an immediate pout.

"Such a sad face," Inutaisho observed. He pressed closer to her and laid both hands along her neck and ears, beneath her hair. "There's no reason for it. I will teach you, and I will be kinder and more patient than any human."

"I don't want to be taught," Izayoi muttered. She wanted to push him away in frustration and anger, but dismissed the impulse as rash and far too insulting. It was true she didn't exactly know what she wanted, did not know what being _anyone's_ lover would entail, least of all Inutaisho. But her body was hot, aching with want and need, with desire. It was not new to her, and she had a good idea of what her body wanted—yet it was still distant, unattainable, and utterly dangerous. It was as intimidating, powerful, and mind-altering as reading or writing had been while she was a tiny child…

But being _taught…?_

Inutaisho smirked at her and his amusement infuriated Izayoi. She bit her lip and directed her eyes away from him, at the darkness beyond the window slats.

"You will enjoy my lessons," he purred. "I promise you that." His hands shifted, probing teasingly under the edges of her night robe, tickling. Izayoi's skin rippled with gooseflesh, the sour look on her face evaporated instantly.

Inutaisho pulled her slowly into his lap, cradling her body close to him. Izayoi clung to him, feeling the ridges and valleys of his muscles through the silken fabric of his night robe. A jolt, a rush of excitement that made her dizzy, passed through her body as Inutaisho loosened her robe, letting it fall on its own away from her shoulders and neck, partially exposing her breasts as well. He supported her back with his hands as he explored her neck and shoulders with lips and tongue and even the small, hard nick of teeth.

Izayoi's mind floated away on the wave of bliss and contentment until it stopped abruptly. She blinked and found Inutaisho staring at her. She had never seen his eyes look so large, so hazy, like a humid summer afternoon, languid and unending.

"I am yours to command," Inutaisho mumbled. His lips were thick and plump. "Will you be my student or not?"

Izayoi was not sure what she was agreeing to, what exactly all of it meant—but she had worn the charm and Inutaisho had touched her with no effect. Was she falling under some bewitchment? Would her ancestors spit and curse when she joined them in the afterlife? Izayoi had never heard of a story where a human girl fell in love with a demon and lived happily. Everything in human culture screamed against it—but Izayoi had never seriously doubted her own heart, her admiration and adoration for Inutaisho. Why would she begin doing it now? Inutaisho had never harmed her purposefully, never misled her.

She nodded, dazed and meek.

Inutaisho started a deep rumble, a vibration that emanated from his bottomless chest. "You will not regret it." He shifted and held her tightly against him as he rose up. Izayoi held onto him frantically, tugging on his robe, both alarmed and thrilled by his strength.

He carried her to the massive futon and set her down carefully. As Izayoi gawped up at him, uncertain, tense, and thrumming with anticipation, Inutaisho stooped to her level and locked his lips with hers. It was loving, warm, soft, and unhurried. Izayoi's tension vanished, her body sang. She clutched at his robe, then felt the firmness of his skin as it fell away from his shoulders and chest. His scent surrounded her, his presence shielded her, covered her like blankets protecting from the cold of a harsh winter.

This was what she had wanted, this unceasing intimacy, the press of his body on hers, the hardness of male meshing with the supple, malleable nature of female. The certainty that she was loved, that she belonged safe and secure, inside the circle of Inutaisho's arms.

* * *

Endnote: This came out a little easier, hopefully it turns out to be as good as last chapter! (Since all of you apparently enjoyed it!) I lost sleep over it (because I had to stay up late and get up early for work) to get it to you, but it feels good. This is an unusual tale, but I put a lot of thought into all of it. I mean, how did this aristocratic, princess-like woman fall in love with this demon? How the heck did she manage to get pregnant? The anime and manga tell us nothing, but I have always been intrigued by the hostage idea since reading _Tales of the Otori._ Thus I wove a story around it...anyway...I have a preview for next week because I have been writing more lately.

Preview

A (tiny) bit of trouble in paradise: _Inutaisho rolled his eyes at her outburst. "If I did not care immensely for you, why would I have spent all fall, winter, and this spring courting you like a fickle bitch?"_

And Sesshy disapproves of his father's behavior, but Inutaisho has a retort for that.

_Sesshomaru ignored his father's answer and spoke again to Izayoi. His lips barely moved and yet the sound emerged, effortlessly. "You should be gone. You should be married."_

_"Your mother says that about you," Inutaisho muttered, then laughed roughly. There was a note of mockery about him, an air of challenge. _


	23. Izayoi Goes for the Gold

A/N: Sorry this is late, I meant to put it up Friday but I was so tired and busy! My wedding plans are steadily picking up, as is the pace of life. Oi. I ordered lingerie online for my upcoming future as a wife, discussed buying my parent's old van off them and settled on how much I would pay, my fiance paid off our honeymoon and soon will have the rings done as well, ordered and reserved the cake, bought a dining room table for the apartment we will be moving into completely after the marriage, and discussed flowers again, finalizing them. Still need to collect the dresses for the bridesmaids and myself, a final fitting. Also decorations. Whew!

So this was a little late. Yeah. Oh, before I forget...**lemon-ish-warning!** This chapter contains not explicit sex (although some might consider it explicit, I don't know). Be advised. I usually don't like writing play-by-plays of the whole act. I find it difficult to pin the terminology. If I say something like "cock" like some kind of romance novel, I feel like giggling stupidly. It distracts from the story. So instead I do what I consider a fairly low-impact sex scene style, more poetic and general...less specific and concrete. More art rather than sex expose. So hopefully that does not offend everyone, or confuse them...

Disclaimer: I do not own them.

* * *

Last Chapter: Izayoi considered suicide, but as my favorite book series by Lian Hearn said of one notable character there, Izayoi "is not meant for sorrow." Or something like that. Izayoi gradually recovered and continued her lessons, went on living. Sesshomaru was visiting when Izayoi had a bizarre dream where she met Kiremono, a demon woman who instructed her to go into Inutaisho's room and search for the meidou-seki. Izayoi found it, but cut herself in the process. And Inutaisho chased her down, concerned about the blood smell. Something snapped (or clicked?) and their relationship made a massive change when Inutaisho asked her to come to his room at night. When she did she found out that Inutaisho planned to "teach" her about sex. Uncertainly, Izayoi agreed.

* * *

"Love from one side hurts, but love from two sides heals."

"So dear I love him that with him, all deaths I could endure. Without him, live no life."

-From William Shakespeare

* * *

Izayoi

(Journal)

I understand Lord Inutaisho's desire to give me the best future possible. I appreciate his patience and caring. There is none that can compare. Yet I cannot stop myself from wanting more of him. His reluctance is not meant to harm me, but it is frustrating. I have seen his body react to mine; I know it is not a lack of want that holds him back. His great heart stuns me. He has so much love, so much to teach and to share.

So it is only natural for me to be impatient to start.

* * *

**Izayoi Goes For The Gold**

If Izayoi had stopped to consider what she wanted _exactly_ from Inutaisho, she would have realized the answer was overwhelming because she had no experience. She would not realize for years just how unique and lucky she was to have fallen in love with such an amazing creature—and so skilled a lover—as the Lord of the Western Lands. If she had walked the natural path of her life, the way that led to Takemaru and a traditional marriage, Izayoi might not have lost her clan. She might have been happy, a simple-minded wife enjoying a mediocre and predictable existence.

But she would have never experienced such physical and emotional bliss in a mundane marriage with a man like Takemaru. She would realize for the rest of her life how unusual her "education" was, and how valuable. Most human girls of Izayoi's class entered marriage anxious and having little or no knowledge of bodily pleasure. They endured their wedding night, sometimes with a man who was also a virgin, but most often not. The combination was not always unpleasant, but Izayoi would later hear women lament the poor quality of their coupling, sometimes just in the beginning, but also throughout the marriage.

Inutaisho had the patience and experience of _centuries_ to draw upon. Even a middle aged human man could come nowhere near Inutaisho's prowess. Inutaisho had had hundreds of years to perfect the art of pleasure, both in giving and receiving it. And in that time he had also amassed unbelievable self-control. Izayoi could not have known that as nothing but a virginal girl because she had no comparison, no human standard, but in time she would be astounded all over again by her own past. Yet there was already more than enough to overwhelm her in the present.

Izayoi had subconsciously expected _intercourse_ when she snuck into Inutaisho's room late that first night, but what she got was far better than that. With the infinite wisdom of a teacher, Inutaisho did not take advantage of her zeal and overeager ambitions. Although Izayoi would not have rejected an advance, Inutaisho did not make one. In fact, during her first night in his bed, Inutaisho did not completely disrobe her either. He merely touched and kissed her adoringly and unceasingly. It was not a frantic, thoughtless exploitation, but an act of appreciation, a slow, methodical exploration of her body that brought both of them pleasure.

After a couple hours, however, Inutaisho ended their lesson. He ordered Izayoi to sleep—in whatever bed she wanted—and excused himself. The moon had risen outside, giving the window a luminescent glow. The orange light in the brazier had died, almost fading completely. Izayoi was exhausted but sated. She fell asleep warm, still surrounded by Inutaisho's scent and lingering presence. She dreamt obsessively of him, his kisses, the taste of his mouth, the touch of his fingers and claw tips, even the thick purr of his voice.

She woke late and still alone. She hurried to her room and then the bathhouse. When she found a maid the older woman gave her an odd look that set Izayoi blushing ferociously. Yet no one questioned Izayoi and her day began from that moment on as any other would have. She bathed and dressed with Etsuko and just as she had finished dressing, Inutaisho arrived. He was friendly, smiling, but there was little to reveal what had transpired between them. Izayoi was both delighted and disturbed at how easily Inutaisho seemed able to hide the truth. He sometimes addressed her as "Lady Izayoi" or "Daughter" in front of the maids, managing to make it sound convincing. But as soon as they were alone for a moment, walking toward her meal, or to her class, or out of the courtyard garden after concluding the lesson in Chinese, Inutaisho draped an arm around her or stroked her cheek while a clever smile transformed his face.

The next "lesson" took place the very next night. Though Izayoi craved his touch and wanted more, Inutaisho left her purposefully unsatisfied. He would not push her, would not advance until _she_ instigated it by making moves on him instead. He was just as content to lay with her, arms and legs intertwined, sleeping or basking in one another's presence—or if he wasn't content with that alone he did a genius job of hiding it.

It was close to a month before Inutaisho shed his clothing completely for her. He smiled, taunting her without words, as she began to explore his body as he had with her own. His body was almost entirely smooth and hairless. His toes had claws just as his hands did, a fact that she noticed he constantly kept tabs on, tucking the little appendages in when he changed positions while nestled close to her on the mattress. He never scratched her, though it was truly an amazing feat. There was no way to know whether or not he had ever been clumsy with his hands and feet, harming a lover. How many times had he accidentally scratched or clawed a partner to learn such deliberate care?

Not long after Izayoi first saw Inutaisho fully naked, he returned the favor. Before he had not stripped her, never left her completely vulnerable without a stitch of clothing to shield her from his loving yet hungry gaze. As soon as Izayoi showed the initiative, Inutaisho indulged her, untying the sash at her waist and pulling it from her in a few short tugs. Then, slowly, while maintaining eye contact, he pushed the robe off her shoulders. It puddled at her waist, around her folded legs and the mattress.

Fearlessly, Izayoi pivoted onto her knees and grabbed the robe out from under and around her navel. She pushed it aside uncaringly and then held her head and chin up, trying to stave off the small blush that tried to burn its way into her cheeks. Inutaisho was smiling with silent laughter, friendly but also filled with a growing predatory want. His golden eyes, almost brown to Izayoi in the dark, moved up and down over her body from her small but firmly rounded breasts, over the little crater of her bellybutton, and downwards.

Izayoi's heart felt as if it would pound right out of her chest and up her throat.

It was not as if she did not have great difficulty keeping her own attention locked onto his face or other more innocent areas of his body. His shoulders were magnificent, his stomach flat except for the ripple of abdominal muscles. His hips were narrow and lean while the legs were thick, shaped by large, rounded muscles. But as beautiful as all of these parts of him were, Izayoi could not keep from looking elsewhere with fascination—and her reaction had not escaped Inutaisho's notice.

He chuckled, a deep-throated sound that sent shivers through Izayoi's body. "It doesn't bite," he murmured. "You should know by now, little Izayoi, you have full permission to touch it."

Izayoi had felt his arousal before, but by accident when he moved and it bumped into her, or when she had placed her hand too low on his abdomen, or too high on his thigh. Uncertain, Izayoi crawled forward on the futon and hesitated, as if she really would deliberately touch this most forbidden, unknown part of him, but Inutaisho's touch on her face stopped her. She stared upwards and found him smiling with amusement, love, and patience.

"We're in no hurry," he whispered huskily and kissed her on the mouth. Izayoi returned it, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her bare chest to his. She never tired of that sensation, of skin against skin.

* * *

The winter passed by in a blur of warmth, affection, and intimacy. Izayoi was the legal age of adulthood at 16 and she was filled with vitality and joy as the snows began to melt. In the large gardens surrounding Nejiro Castle some of the trees bloomed in pink and white blossoms. In spite of the chill, Izayoi spent her afternoons walking amongst them, seized by their beauty and by the profoundness of her own happiness. She collected fallen petals and preserved them, determined to make decorations of some kind out of them.

The castle was full of whispers and rumors about the goings on between the great dog demon and the girl who was supposed to be marrying Takemaru Setsuna. Izayoi ignored the strange looks some of the human guards gave her and when Etsuko had nothing to say about the charm failing to work or some such nonsense, Izayoi was glad for the silence and didn't miss the other girl's sharp disapproval.

But soon it affected all of her teachers. The women who had come to teach her to cook and to sew became distant, distrustful. They had little to say in the way of praise for Izayoi's work. Usually they complained that she was not applying herself properly to it—which was their polite way of saying that Izayoi wasn't knitting or cooking in the afternoons and after nightfall. Instead they suspected or knew that she crept to visit Inutaisho and stayed there all night.

Yosuda was the worst. He was not content to simply criticize her studying, but had to take action. One day, after the snows had finally been cleared away and the temperature and weather both suggested that there would be no unexpected late spring snowstorms, he passed Izayoi a small folded note.

"Read it," he ordered her briskly.

Izayoi fondled it, turning the small bit of paper over in her hands before looking up at her teacher with confusion. "What is it?"

"I said read it!" Yosuda snapped impatiently. He leaned out to one side, peering at the door behind her nervously. He reminded Izayoi of a weasel with his bald head and the rounded ears sticking out on either side. Except that weasels were a little cuter. There was nothing sweet or cute about Yosuda.

Izayoi kept these thoughts to herself as she unfolded the note and squinted at the tiny characters. Some of them had gotten wet on their journey and were difficult or impossible to read, but Izayoi at once picked out the gist of the letter's substance. She blinked and stared at Yosuda. "Lord Inutaisho told the Setsuna clan that I died over the winter?"

Yosuda sneered, an ugly, harsh expression that showed his slightly yellowed teeth. "Apparently. They had received no word from you since late last summer."

"That's not right," Izayoi protested. "They were the ones who didn't write to me."

"No," Yosuda muttered. "You simply did not receive their letters." He paused as she grasped his meaning.

_Inutaisho blocked them. _She immediately blurted her next question, though already her heart was pounding with excitement. "Why would—"

Yosuda snatched the little note and jabbed his finger at it. "First he told them you were ill with a fever over the fall and could not travel to the Takeyabu province to get married as he'd promised you would. Then he wrote to them and said you had died. Luckily they had the good sense to doubt him and write in secret to me."

Izayoi lowered her voice and pleaded. "Teacher—I beg you!—_please_ do not write back to them!"

Yosuda pulled back from her as if she had spat in his face. "Have you lost your mind, girl? You're truly bewitched by that beast, aren't you? Lord Takemaru loves you and won't settle for anyone else—what a fool of a woman you are to—"

"Tell Lord Takemaru to find another bride—I'm unworthy of him," Izayoi said, feigning sadness to stop the gush of angry words from Yosuda's mouth.

"I'd be more than happy to tell him that—but he won't give up," Yosuda muttered with disgust.

"Then lie and tell the Setsuna I'm dead," Izayoi insisted.

Yosuda spluttered and his face flushed red, then white. "I will not help you hide your debauchery!"

Izayoi got up and left the room hurriedly, ignoring Yosuda as he shouted after her. "You fool girl! Idiotic girl!"

That night she sat with Inutaisho and related the news quietly with her eyes averted. Inutaisho was silent for a long while before he sighed heavily. "I must apologize, little Izayoi. I spun that lie to make that fool Takemaru forget about you and the marriage. I did not tell you because I was not sure you would be glad to hear it."

Izayoi laughed breathlessly. "_Of course_ I am glad to hear it! I'm overjoyed!"

Inutaisho watched her unhappily, souring by the second. Finally he closed his eyes and explained, "You are very young, Izayoi."

"Stop saying that," she interrupted, almost grumbling.

"We both know it is true." He opened his eyes now and locked them with hers. "One day you will crave marriage and children." He shook his head, smirking with a mixture of bitterness and fondness. "You will want a man to do more than touch you and hold you."

_I want that already,_ Izayoi thought with irritation. She said nothing aloud and blushed as the knowledge passed through her mind—that she still wanted and needed more, like a hungry, growing child or a plant that had gone too long without water.

Inutaisho was too keen-eyed and alert to miss her expression, even if it was only momentary. He shook his head. His white hair, as silky as his night robe, was unrestrained that night. It fell around his shoulders in ropey strands. "I know you are thinking that you want those things from me—but you cannot have them."

"Then I'll never have them," Izayoi countered stubbornly.

Inutaisho laughed, full-throated and loud. "You can lie to yourself but not to me, little Izayoi. You were meant to have those things. I can see it, smell it on you—taste it even. You would not be happy if you did not marry and have children."

"There is nothing for me unless it is with you," Izayoi whispered and meant it with every cell.

Inutaisho pursed his lips and clenched his jaw, the first sign of frustration or irritation. "I cannot marry you and I cannot give you children. Do you understand?" he raised his voice slightly. "That is why I have not and never will—" he cut himself off and scrunched up his face distastefully.

"Never will what?" Izayoi pressed. "What are you saying?" She had not meant to sound pained but her voice emerged with a quaver.

Inutaisho stared at her for a time and then slowly said, "I will be frank with you, but you will not like it."

Izayoi waited expectantly, fidgeting slightly with impatience.

"If you and I were to…commit the full carnal act, I would be sentencing you to a life lived alone, without the full trust of other humans. You see already how they disapprove. This will not change. It would become your whole life. I have no right to force that upon you."

Izayoi didn't see what was so bad about that news. She had thought as much. Couldn't he see that she _wanted_ that life sentence?

As if he could read her mind again, Inutaisho continued, "It was my hope to leave you with the choice to leave. I knew that you did not want to marry Takemaru, and that was why I lied to him. However, it was my hope that someday in the future you would decide to marry another human."

"I love you," Izayoi said, hissing. "Only you."

"It is impossible," Inutaisho said, shaking his head.

Izayoi didn't believe him, she sensed, though she wasn't sure how, that he was evading something, trying to convince her by repeating the same statement. "Why not? Do you not want me to stay with you?"

After she had asked it, Izayoi at once regretted it and wanted to scoop the words back into her mouth and swallow them into her stomach, never to be released. She felt queasy as Inutaisho hesitated. It was hard to understand _why_ he paused. His eyes flicked about the room, his lips made clumsy movement as if he was talking to himself. Izayoi thought it was a sort of frantic panic, muted and controlled.

"That's the real reason, isn't it?" Izayoi demanded with abrupt anger. Her voice grew shrill. "I am nothing but your toy!"

Inutaisho rolled his eyes at her outburst. "If I did not care _immensely_ for you, why would I have spent all fall, winter, and this spring courting you like a fickle bitch?"

His terminology baffled her. _Fickle bitch?_ It should have been an insult, but coming from Inutaisho and with his tone, Izayoi knew it was just truth with an odd delivery. She was slower to realize that the important part of the sentence was the word _courting._ She stayed silent; waiting to see what Inutaisho would do or say next.

He did not disappoint. For once he mistook her reaction as negative and plunged into an almost stuttered explanation. "If I thought of you as nothing but a plaything I would have destroyed you. I would have rutted you. I would not have cared that it would harm your future or limit it. I would not care that it would frighten you because you're just a smidgen too young for it."

Izayoi concealed exactly how much of this she understood, feigning a sullen silence in the next silence that followed. Inutaisho was staring at her, a challenge burning in his golden eyes. "If you still think I have been toying with you heartlessly, then I have misjudged you and made a mistake—"

"There was no mistake," Izayoi reassured him and smiled timidly. She bowed to him, laying her sweaty palms flat on the floor. "I apologize for doubting you, dearest."

"Dearest?" Inutaisho repeated and then laughed, all tenseness shattered. As Izayoi sat up Inutaisho was grinning. "Say it again."

"Dearest," Izayoi said, grinning with him now.

"I like it," Inutaisho announced. Though it was hard to tell in the orange light, Izayoi thought she saw color in his cheeks. "It's far better than the nickname Shiroihana had for me."

Izayoi didn't want to know but found herself asking anyway. "What was her nickname?"

"Swine," Inutaisho said, grunting. "Keh. That was how she always saw me."

"There is nothing even remotely like a pig about Lord Inutaisho," Izayoi said, speaking formally to impart respect.

"You'll never convince her of that—that was why she wouldn't have anymore pups with me." He fell abruptly silent, clearly cold with the memory.

Bold, and eager to change the subject, Izayoi asked, "Why can't humans and dog demons have children together?"

Inutaisho turned his head slowly to needle her with his golden eyes. In a moment Izayoi regretted this question too. Yet after a moment Inutaisho relaxed and made the same pinched expression that he had earlier when first talking about interspecies marriage and breeding. It was not quite disgust Izayoi realized, though it was close. Something else softened the look. _Pity, _Izayoi realized. It was pity she was seeing.

"Humans do not know how to tell the difference," Inutaisho explained. "But they see them from time to time. Half-breeds between youkai species and youkai and humans do exist. They are called _hanyou._ They are mistakes of nature. Oversights. Accidents. Most are better off dead."

Izayoi was fascinated. Inutaisho might not have gone on, but his audience was clearly captivated. After growling for a second—more an effort to clear his throat than express an emotion—Inutaisho said, "There are countless kitsune hanyou. Born to enslaved human women in brothels. Most of them die in childhood. They are poorly formed and their energies conflict. They often undergo transformations or lose their minds. They are feared by humans and despised by pureblooded youkai. I have seen fine hanyou warriors before, but they did not live pleasant lives. It is not a fate any parent would wish on one's offspring."

Izayoi sighed. "This is another reason why you want me to leave you and marry a human."

"I don't _want_ you to leave; I feel it is _better for you_ if you do." Inutaisho tilted his head upward and stared at the ceiling, at the dance of the shadows from the firelight. "Hanyou are the least of our concerns, little Izayoi. They do not happen very often. My concern is for your wellbeing. For your future."

"My future is with you." She rose up on her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him. Inutaisho hesitated for a brief time before sighing. His breath was tasty, inviting. His hands encircled her waist, pulling her closer.

As he accepted her advance, he growled, a low and sensual rumble, and bit her ear gently. "You are the most stubborn woman I've ever known."

Izayoi grinned, relishing his words—not because they were affectionate, as they always were—but because she hadn't missed the way he called her a _woman._

_

* * *

_

Spring passed into summer. The air thickened with humidity, and soon rain poured relentlessly from the sky, barely managing to stave off the sticky heat. Izayoi found herself restless and bored. Yosuda had left or been sent away, one or the other, Izayoi wasn't sure. Without him Izayoi had far fewer lessons. She tried to discipline herself into reading and writing without his schooling, but her mind and body were distracted by the oppression of the summer heat and humidity.

In the mornings Izayoi rose from her sheets—or Inutaisho's—and found her body sticky with night sweats. The sleep she got was restless, plagued with strange dreams. She could have used Inutaisho as a distraction except that he was traveling often and when he did return he at times resisted her advances. He never turned her away from his bed but he was reluctant to disrobe—though he did not stop her from doing so. Izayoi understood what was going through his mind. He did not want to consummate their relationship the way a husband and wife would. Knowing his concerns kept Izayoi from seeing this as rejection, but it only served to motivate her more.

She would have to _take_ what she wanted from him.

Then, in midsummer, just after the rains had ceased, Sesshomaru visited. Izayoi did not know of it until she saw Inutaisho in the afternoon, in the garden courtyard pavilion, where he always tutored her in spoken Chinese. This time as she entered, Izayoi heard Sesshomaru's voice speaking Chinese and knew before she had seen him that he was there. She composed herself, stripping away her grin, her open enthusiasm that always came when seeing Inutaisho.

Sesshomaru did not acknowledge her presence until she had stepped up onto the pavilion and bowed. Then he addressed her in Chinese. His cool, confident voice should not have managed to be so monotone in Chinese and still be understandably accurate, but somehow it was. _"Why are you here?"_

Izayoi sat up rapidly, shocked enough to stare openly at Sesshomaru, which only served to irritate the young dog demon. He turned his head slightly, glaring at her out of the corner of his eye, as if she was not worthy of seeing anything but his profile.

Inutaisho was stiff where he sat. His hands were in his lap, curled into fists on his thighs. "She is here to learn Chinese," Inutaisho answered for her. "She does this every day. You've seen this before."

Sesshomaru ignored his father's answer and spoke again to Izayoi. His lips barely moved and yet the sound emerged, effortlessly. _"You should be gone. You should be married."_

"Your mother says that about you," Inutaisho muttered, then laughed roughly. There was a note of mockery about him, an air of challenge.

"Chichiue," Sesshomaru said, pivoting to stare with open irritation at his father. "You have kept her here illegally." His eyes narrowed, as sharp and pointed as daggers or fangs. _"Why?"_

It was clear that Sesshomaru suspected them, and yet though the answer seemed obvious, Sesshomaru was broaching the subject aloud, in front of her no less. Izayoi had not spent all these years around these powerful, enigmatic—and dangerous—creatures without learning a few secrets. There were hints in every situation, clues that she had learned to follow. She saw Inutaisho as the tip-off and knew that this was yet another underlying reason why Inutaisho feared an open, long-term union. He was scowling, puffing himself up and his fists tightened further on his thighs, as if he would spring up and start barking defensively at his son to frighten him off.

She had seen Inutaisho charge at Sesshomaru before. On the day that she had gone up to find him, to tell him about Shiroihana and Sesshomaru plotting against him, but had instead found Sesshomaru ready to kill her for the secret. Inutaisho had unquestionably defended her, bodily and verbally intimidating his son until Sesshomaru conceded defeat and turned his back rather than engage in an all-out battle.

On that day Inutaisho had been infused with a righteous anger, borne of his deep compassion for the weak and less fortunate. Now he was preparing to fight with different motivations—something less proud, less pure. He had an ulterior motive, a secret of his own to protect, but it was not entirely easy for him to own up to.

"Takemaru was not fit for Lady Izayoi," Inutaisho announced matter-of-factly. "She did not wish to marry him. I saw no reason to force her."

"It is not her decision to make," Sesshomaru pointed out. He was cold, cruel.

"Keh," Inutaisho said and muttered something in Chineseas he leveled a glare at his son. "It was _my_ choice. When did you start caring about anything but yourself, Sesshomaru?"

"Chichiue," Sesshomaru said and raised his shoulders, also bolstering himself for a confrontation. "_Please…"_

Inutaisho snorted like a horse about to spook and bolt. "Feh! Now what the hell are you begging me for? I've given you everything. You even have your own palace at Jouka."

"This Sesshomaru does not beg. Chichiue should know to behave with more honor than this."

Inutaisho bared his teeth viciously. "_You_ are going to lecture me about honor? My son who kept secrets and spied on his mother using this innocent girl? My son who threatened to kill a harmless human child to keep his despicable mother's dirty secrets?"

Sesshomaru frowned briefly, then turned his back slowly on the pavilion where Inutaisho and Izayoi sat. Over his shoulder he said, "Do not humiliate me, Father—and take care not to shame yourself."

Inutaisho growled and lunged suddenly to his feet, though he did not rush off the pavilion to attack his son. "Get out!" he shouted.

Sesshomaru stalked off, elegant as the wind, impervious as a mountain peak.

In the space that followed the wind whistled high overhead. Somewhere Izayoi heard the musical tinkling of wooden chimes. Inutaisho returned to his seat, scowling unhappily. He did not meet Izayoi's probing gaze, but instead seemed to have forgotten she was there at all. Izayoi reached for his hand, wrapping it in both of her own.

"Lord Inutaisho?"

"Do you see?" Inutaisho asked her somberly. "There would be no rest for you living a life beside me."

"A life lived without challenges is not worth living at all," Izayoi murmured and smiled brightly.

Inutaisho was speechless for a long period. His golden eyes skipped over her face, examining Izayoi. It was so peculiar that Inutaisho, Shiroihana, and Sesshomaru all carried the same piercing amber coloration. Yet what looked especially cold, predatory, and deadly in Sesshomaru and Shiroihana was warm, intelligent, and comforting with Inutaisho.

Izayoi released Inutaisho's hand and laid her hands on either side of his thick, powerful neck, then she sat up and kissed him, a slow, tentative touch at first, an invitation. Inutaisho responded almost immediately, inhaling and hauling her closer with both arms. His speed and strength also dragged the cushion her legs and feet had trapped beneath her weight until it was flush with his knees. He caressed the back of her neck, sliding his hand up and underneath the thick, heavy mat of her hair.

Izayoi lowered her hands from his neck to his shoulders, squeezing them. There was tension there, anxiety as well as stiffness from sexual energy and arousal. Izayoi aggressively trailed her hands down his sides, on the bumps of ribs, the narrowing of waist and hips—and then she gripped and stroked the length of his powerful thighs, heading inward, away from his knees…

Inutaisho let out a deep growl of pleasure but then pulled violently away from her. He knocked her hands away from him. Izayoi was not alarmed but she watched him avidly, taking in the flutter of his closed eyelids, the eyeballs rolling beneath the lids, the frustrated pinch of his facial expression.

"_Too much?"_ Izayoi asked, speaking in Chinese.

He opened his eyes and gave her a lighthearted glare. "You should not tempt me like that. Not when I am not prepared for it."

Izayoi pushed herself backward over the smooth wood of the pavilion floor. She bowed and whispered an apology, but her voice was just as thick with arousal and Inutaisho's was. "Perhaps we can continue this tonight?" she asked quietly.

"No," Inutaisho said with sternness. "We will not meet for one of our lessons tonight."

"Sesshomaru is here," Izayoi recalled aloud, more to herself than to Inutaisho.

"He will be a danger to you, little Izayoi," Inutaisho cautioned, scowling. "I will protect you from him as much as possible."

"Thank you," Izayoi said.

The Chinese lesson went by uneventfully and quickly. Too soon Izayoi found herself sitting in the courtyard alone, staring up at the sky as it steadily changed colors and then darkened with the setting sun. She cursed Sesshomaru inwardly for his presence, wishing that he would leave and go far, far away.

* * *

For the next two weeks there were no lessons. Izayoi was impatient, lonely. First Sesshomaru was there longer than Izayoi expected, souring every Chinese lesson in the courtyard garden. Then Inutaisho himself was away with Sesshomaru.

At last Inutaisho returned, but at an unexpected time. Izayoi would have thought she would see him during the daytime, regardless of when he arrived back. So it was a great and pleasurable surprise when she was sitting in her bedroom, gloomily watching as a moth with white wings fluttered along the walls and the screens around the orange light from the coals of her brazier and suddenly Inutaisho was in her doorway. She had not registered the clank of his armor, but the moment she saw his powerful outline, complete with his hair pinned back and his armor on, Izayoi's heart pounded. She could not stop herself from grinning with delight.

She bowed to him, greeting him formally with respect. "Lord Inutaisho!"

He walked in, closing the door behind him without turning to look at it. His armor rattled, shifting as he walked. He sat down a foot or so in front of her and laughed heartily. "It's good to see you again, little Izayoi."

Izayoi sat up, still grinning. Her chest felt light and bubbly with excitement. Usually she went to him, now the reverse had happened. Izayoi moved without being asked, crawling to his side where she began fastidiously untying his armor and piling it to one side.

"There was a typhoon that swept through in lands to the south of here," Inutaisho began, explaining his absence. As Izayoi worked she watched his head and shoulders droop. "There was so much destruction and death from the storm itself—but there were opportunistic youkai to contend with as well. Hundreds died before Sesshomaru and I arrived there to put an end to it. It makes me ill, Izayoi—the madness in this world."

Izayoi had moved behind him, working on the hard metal plates of armor there. As she removed the largest, loosening the shoulder pieces with it at the same time, Izayoi saw the brown-red stain over Inutaisho's back. She dropped the armor plating and gasped with alarm. "Lord Inutaisho!"

He lifted his head, as if emerging out of sleep at her call. "What is it?"

"You've been wounded," she told him. Her hands hovered over the broad expanse of his back, shaking in uncertainty. She had no way of knowing how extensive the wound was that had created the stain. There was no clear tear in the haori.

"Sesshomaru and I were in an ambush," Inutaisho explained nonchalantly. One of them stabbed through a gap in my armor. The wound is already closed." He turned, knocking aside some of the armor she had removed. He took Izayoi's hands and clasped them both in one of his own. "Don't worry about me, little Izayoi. I am fine."

Izayoi nodded but the sight of his blood had unsteadied her. She had imagined him invincible, impossible to harm. Now she saw that even the great and seemingly immortal Inutaisho could be wounded, could bleed—and his blood was the same color as her own.

"You're upset," Inutaisho observed, tilting his head. His eyes were soft and warm, his lips slightly parted. He let go of her hands and rapidly shed the rest of his armor from his shoulders and from around his waist, knocking it carelessly aside. Then he undid the sash about his waist that kept the haori over shirt closed. He tugged the clothing off impatiently until he was bare-chested before her. He lifted his arm and showed her the wound, the caked and dried blood down his side and on his back. The wound where the blood had issued from was small, but it had gone deep.

"Do you see it there? It's not that serious. I have endured far worse."

When he faced her again Izayoi let out a little sound of distress. "Dearest."

Inutaisho smiled warmly at her and took her in his arms. "Little Izayoi—it's fine. I heal very quickly." He was running his fingers through her hair, tickling her shoulders. His voice was deep and husky when he spoke again. "But it is time for our lesson. I have thought of you constantly. I am sorry I was away for so long."

Izayoi clung to him as he lifted her bodily up, transporting her to her futon. She was concerned, distracted by his wound. She caught the sight of the brown blood occasionally and it only served to disturb her. She had lost so many important loved ones—perhaps she had loved Inutaisho because he seemed immortal, impossible to kill. There was no one safer for her to love. But even Inutaisho bled. Even Inutaisho could die and leave her behind.

As Inutaisho reverently but hungrily caressed her body, her calves and thighs, her sides and abdomen, her back, shoulders, breasts, arms, and neck, Izayoi closed her eyes, more melancholy than aroused, even when she was nude before him, completely exposed and at his mercy.

When she rolled over him, laying over his hard, massive body, Izayoi returned his kisses and caresses with a fierceness that came partly from her fear. She was aggressive, desperate to live in the moment with him, to stay caught in it forever. She wanted to memorize his body, internalize it, and take it with her. If she lost him, if she had to live without him someday, Izayoi wanted to have him inside her, deep in her memories.

After Inutaisho had settled, beginning to relax beside her—still not completely nude, though there was no hiding the physical signs of his arousal—Izayoi's thoughts swamped her with less intimacy to distract her. Tears prickled her eyes but she refused to shed them.

But she did not realize how powerful Inutaisho's nose was, especially when aroused.

He sat up behind her, took hold of her shoulder and rolled her to face him in the darkness. "Why are you crying?" he whispered.

Izayoi sniffled and nestled into him, wrapping her arms around him—but she felt the crustiness of blood when she brushed over his back. The hesitance of her fingers then gave away what she was thinking.

Inutaisho let out a long, heavy breath. "What can I do to ease your mind, little Izayoi?" he asked with a hint of playfulness in his voice. "If I cannot improve your mood anymore—if I'm not satisfying you any longer—"

"No—" Izayoi started to protest but Inutaisho ignored her outburst.

"Then I think it's time we progressed to the next level of lessons."

Perplexed, Izayoi laid still as he changed position, moving downward on the mattress until he was beside her legs. Gently he coaxed her to open them. Izayoi was both intrigued and alarmed as he took a place between her legs and growled appreciatively with want. Her spine tensed—she tried to sit upright but Inutaisho extended his arm and pressed between her breasts, telling her firmly to lay back.

"Relax," he purred. "I will show you how a husband should make you feel. I will do all the work."

Izayoi thought he would at last couple with her—perform the full "carnal act" as Inutaisho called it—but he was still wearing his hakama. She was tense, perplexed and uncertain—but as soon as he began, Izayoi forgot about everything else. Every fear or concern that had risen in her because of the wound, the sight of his blood, all of it faded.

She had never known, never guessed, at all the ways to give and receive pleasure. That lovers could use their mouths on one another was a shock to say the least. Izayoi probably never would have learned on her own or from someone as stiff and difficult as Takemaru. She had never experienced climax before, but it collided with her, smashed her like a wave pummeling the shore. She cried out once or twice, sharp, high pitched sounds, and shook afterwards as the world filtered back to her slowly.

Inutaisho was growling, rumbling with his success. He licked and nibbled on her thigh and Izayoi whimpered at the sensation, overwhelmed with pleasure.

Then he was on the move again, lifting himself up and over her. Izayoi felt his legs bump against her own. He had shed his hakama, though exactly when he'd managed to do that, Izayoi would never know. He was breathing rapidly, almost panting. His body covered hers, powerful and hard with tensed muscle. Faintly through her own lingering bliss, Izayoi realized she had never seen him so worked up before.

He growled and grumbled, but the words were too thick for Izayoi to understand. In frustration and bathed in sweat, he rolled onto his back with a grunt and pulled Izayoi with him, adjusting her, guiding her. Though Izayoi's mind was still buzzing with pleasure, she realized what he was wrestling with. Inutaisho had never climaxed in her presence, but now he had nearly lost hold on his control. It was fragile, teetering. He had instinctually tried to pin her down first, to go through with the full act. But there was some semblance of consciousness leftover within him and it held Inutaisho back. So instead of forcing the act on her, he had tried to ask her permission, but could not make the words come out. So he gave her control by placing himself beneath her, by letting her decide to withdraw or push forward.

Izayoi knew exactly what she wanted to do. There would be no undoing it, no regrets. No doubt.

She gripped the mattress, the sheets on either side of Inutaisho's body and lowered herself onto him. He hissed and grabbed her hips, his face wrenched with something feral, needy, almost painful. He let out a growled, slurred word that was probably her name, but Izayoi couldn't tell as she took in the new sensations and held her breath with a mix of astonishment and triumph.

She had wanted this for so long, craved it, aching and empty—and now she had seized it, fearlessly. It was overwhelming, overpowering, and unexpected. She felt a rush of power and realized that the eroticism of this action, the joining, the literal mesh between their bodies, was in what she could do to him. The immense joy she could elicit from his body, every reactionary gasp, growl, purr, and ragged breath. It was enough to send her spiraling back to that blissful place, hanging on the precipice.

And then Inutaisho let out a shout, a sort of howl almost, and his body lurched, arched underneath and inside of Izayoi. After a few moments of staggered breathing and body-wide tenseness, Inutaisho relaxed. Soaked in sweat with his skin glistening in the tiniest remaining light from the brazier and the moonlight outside her window. He began to register the fullness of what had happened and Izayoi's lingering position straddling him.

He sat up, pulling her close, into his chest, and rubbed her back, kissed her forehead and lips. "Little Izayoi," he breathed her name as if praying.

Izayoi did not miss the tinge of sadness in his voice but she battled it away, refused to acknowledge it. She clung to him, feeling the strong muscles of his back, the long groove in his back like a valley. "Dearest."

_I will never leave you. _

_

* * *

Endnote: _Hopefully that wasn't all too vague. I was going for poetry, not vagueness or being unclear. Except that well, I am not supposed to do lemons, sex scenes, blah, on FFnet. So...yeah..._  
_


	24. A Mortal Mate

A/N: Going camping this weekend. The whole weekend. Ugh. Anyway, sorry this is late in coming. Things are getting busier here in preparation for my wedding and chances are they are only going to get busier! Now begins Part 3, which will be a mixture of narrators. This is also the first chapter where there is a _Double-narration._ This chapter begins with Izayoi heading it, then switches to Sesshomaru. Sess will sum up what he's been doing since we last saw him (as well as what he was thinking in one of the last chapters when he met Izayoi and Inutaisho during a Chinese lesson and asked why she wasn't married). Sess likes to steal the show here, he's such a drama dog, but he just comes out hurting and hurting. This family has been nothing but hurtful for him.

Disclaimer: I do not own them.

* * *

Last Chapter: Izayoi and Inu-papa became lovers! AHHHHH!

* * *

Our most bitter enemies are our own kith and kin. Kings have no brothers, no sons, no mother! –**Honore De Balzac**

Hate is ravening vulture beaks descending on a place of skulls. **–Amy Lowell**

**

* * *

**

Part 3

Izayoi

(Journal)

I have had nightmares since Sesshomaru's attack. It was Shiroihana who scarred my legs, but now I dream that it was Sesshomaru. It is bewildering, terrifying, because he looks so much like both Shiroihana and my dearest. I see his face cracking with cruelty and delight as he tears into my flesh. I see his face become Shiroihana's, and then it is memory rather than dream. But those are not the worst of my nightmares.

The worst is when Sesshomaru becomes my dearest. Then it is his claws that tear me apart. Then it is terrifying and cruel beyond belief.

I know that nothing bad has come of it. Sesshomaru did not hurt me, but I know my dearest is suffering because of it, because of me and my weakness. But what can I do? I'm only human and I cannot stop myself from loving him so.

* * *

**A Mortal Mate**

In the daylight, the bliss of the night before sobered. Inutaisho lamented the irretrievable act—she was too young, they were different species with different life spans. And now as a result of what he viewed as his own rash, selfish needs, Izayoi was doomed to a life lived away from her own kind, without a real family or clan.

He whispered these things to her while laying with her in her bed, bittersweet.

Izayoi was sleepy, lethargic and sated, but Inutaisho's frivolous reservations only annoyed her. Yet Izayoi showed none of it. Instead she smiled and shared her perspective, which was very different from his. "I chose it. You did not lose control. I have everything I want."

Inutaisho held her close, ignoring the rising sun outside, the approaching day. "Beautiful, sweet Izayoi. You have the largest, fullest heart I have ever known."

Izayoi nestled into him, taking in his scent, the thin, distinct, and delicious scent of his sweat. "It is all for you. Only for you."

"Good," Inutaisho said, chuckling and then finishing with a growl as he squeezed her tight to him. "I would have to kill any other man that touched you."

Izayoi grinned sleepily and then yawned against him.

* * *

There was an imperceptible change in the Lord of the Western Lands. Izayoi came to realize that he had held back from her initially, withheld himself in certain ways. She had always been witness to his compassion, his loving heart, but now the curtains had been cast aside, and her view cleared. She had never known she was missing something before, but it was like gazing into the sky on a cloudy night and then seeing them clear away with the wind, exposing the vast, incomprehensible Milky Way spread out overhead.

After Izayoi and Inutaisho became lovers, the great dog demon accompanied her almost like a shadow. Even when Izayoi thought she was alone, she sometimes realized that Inutaisho was still watching over her. While she was outdoors, in the courtyard, enjoying the daylight and summertime warmth, Izayoi thought she was alone, but when she saw Inutaisho in the evening he nuzzled her ears and neck and remarked on how beautiful she was in the sunlight. Izayoi spent her next afternoon outdoors looking at the castle walls, at the windows, the curved angles or the roof, and the balconies high up, wondering where exactly Inutaisho was watching her from.

He ate with her often, though she was always hungrier than he was. Izayoi was fascinated by the white of his claws, instruments of strength and ferocity that he tamed and wrapped elegantly around his porcelain teacup. Though Izayoi knew she was demure and small, graceful as any young human woman would be, she felt obtuse and clumsy in his presence, marveled and dazzled at his greatness—yet humbled and honored that he was with her.

They took turns visiting each other's rooms. There were never any words exchanged about it, but Izayoi knew the unspoken rules. If Inutaisho was not with her an hour after the sun had set, then she would go to him. In the past Inutaisho had vanished to attend to monsters or rebellions around the Western Lands without breathing a word to her. Now he always made a point to find her, no matter the time, and tell her that he would be away. Izayoi always found out he had returned when he found her a day or a week later, kissing her, greeting her. If he came to her in the nighttime, in her room, Izayoi would meet him the way she felt a wife should by removing his armor, massaging his feet, his legs, his neck and shoulders. She did not usually get beyond his shoulders before Inutaisho had pounced on her.

They did not always consummate their relationship with intercourse. Inutaisho continued his patience, his constant gentleness, pleasuring her—but now he advanced his teaching to incorporate _giving_ pleasure as well was receiving it. He familiarized her with his anatomy and when Izayoi was fascinated and delighted rather than overwhelmed or intimidated, he made sure she knew what _he_ liked from her. He taught her how to be an active lover, how to make him pant and squirm, or cry out with the grip or her hands or the touch of her mouth.

But when he coupled with Izayoi it was an arduous event. Although she could not know it, Izayoi had chosen a lover with both knowledge and physical skill leaps above what any human could achieve. In years to come she would learn that human men's bodies had limitations. Their female partners did not have the same issues—they could climax continuously. Yet human men were limited biologically in a way that inuyoukai were not. She would never know the exact reasoning behind it, but Inutaisho was in almost complete control of his arousal. It did not matter how many times he climaxed in a night or day—he could always perform again.

The limitations in their sexual relationship were hers. She was small, petite, and one long or overzealous encounter could leave her sore for days. There was an added difficulty that Izayoi did not understand: fertility. Inutaisho could detect her fertile timeframes and he avoided intercourse for much of the summer because of her relentless cycle. Two weeks of every moon cycle were lost because of it.

Though he did not tell her directly, Izayoi gleaned that inuyoukai women did not endure the same system. She already knew from Shiroihana that there was not a weeklong tempest of menstrual blood to endure. Inutaisho never expressed frustration with her biologic limitations, but Izayoi sensed it nonetheless and couldn't understand his reluctance. Hanyou were rare, weren't they? Izayoi had certainly never heard of them.

The Chinese lessons continued, but the teacher was often distracted by the student. Izayoi had accumulated enough words and grammar in the foreign language that she could flirt with Inutaisho, and it became a self-appointed challenge to taunt him, to arouse him. Unlike Inutaisho, Izayoi did not care when her cycle was ill-timed. She was driven by the thought of his ragged breathing, his moans, his face clenched with ecstasy. Concerns and cares flew away at the possibility of pushing him beyond his needless caution.

During one lesson Izayoi succeeded as she thought she never could have. They were sitting in the decorative pavilion together, going through their pronunciation of new words. She had flirted with him until Inutaisho forgot about the Chinese and kissed her vehemently. Hands wandered, hearts pounded faster and harder, and tongues mingled. Izayoi took the initiative and was the first to drop her hands down into his lap. He growled into her mouth and pulled away with fire in his golden eyes.

Izayoi thought she had miscalculated—though he had never told her she had gone too far before—when Inutaisho snatched her by the waist. He pulled her to him with one hand, kissing her and nipping at her neck while he fumbled with amazing expertise at his waist, loosening the hakama. Almost before Izayoi knew what was happening he had turned her around, found the seam in her kimono, and pried it open. She realized with a jolt of excitement that he meant to go through with it—in the open space of the courtyard.

Izayoi was both alarmed and thrilled. Alarmed for the exposed location, the public nature of their spot where anyone walking by could witness the act or hear it, but simultaneously the risk made it thrilling, intoxicating.

Then Inutaisho guided her hips down and entered from behind. In half a second Izayoi knew she didn't care who walked by and saw or heard them. Greedily she wanted the experience, the pleasure, the titillation, everything. She laid her palms flat on the coolness of the wood and pushed the cushion she had been sitting on beneath her knees and bit back the moans that tried to escape her lips.

When he climaxed Inutaisho pulled her close, sweeping back her hair from her neck to bite Izayoi's neck. It stung but was not unpleasant. Izayoi felt his body shuddering and delighted in the power that she had to make such a giant, such a great ageless creature gasp and shake with pleasure. Though she had not finished herself, Izayoi was not unsatisfied with her work at all.

After a few seconds of silence, Inutaisho grunted and whispered in her ear. "Are you all right?"

Izayoi's voice was thick and deep, almost like a man's. "Yes."

"I was careless," he murmured with a small, hoarse growl. "I will correct it."

"Tonight?" Izayoi asked.

"Now," he purred and took her ear in his mouth.

Izayoi let out a little breathless whimper.

"Go to the bathhouse," Inutaisho instructed huskily. "Ask for hot water to be drawn. I will be with you shortly."

Immediately Izayoi snapped alert. "But the maids—they will—"

"I don't care, little Izayoi. We are above them." His arms, encircling her, tightened possessively. "I love you."

It was the first time he had uttered those words to her and Izayoi's eyes warmed with tears. "Dearest."

Izayoi left and went to the bathhouse as instructed, asking for hot water to be prepared. Just as the maids had assembled all the soaps, oils, and perfumes that Izayoi usually used, Inutaisho arrived and dismissed them. Izayoi did not miss the consternation on their faces even as they averted their eyes and stared purposefully at the floor. As soon as they were gone Inutaisho was on her without hesitation.

Even as Izayoi lost herself in his touch, his skilled hands, mouth, and tongue, she could not stop remembering his boldness, his eagerness, and his proclamation of love.

* * *

Fall was on them before Izayoi expected it. Leaves on the trees were brittle to the touch, drying out even as they endured cold rains. The skies were heavy with ominous, gloomy clouds. On occasion cool days dawned, clear and crisp, and in the night a harvest moon glowed an eerie orange.

Izayoi did not go to lessons with Yosuda any longer. She had never said goodbye to him and had no idea whether Inutaisho had sent him off for insulting Izayoi, or if Yosuda had excused himself from his position as teacher out of disgust. Either way, Izayoi did not miss him. She learned to sew and to cook but these teachers too eventually disappeared. Izayoi sensed their disgust with her, but unlike Yosuda they never voiced anything so she had no firm evidence.

Late in the fall, just before the times of the first snows, Sesshomaru arrived in the castle to visit his father. Izayoi did not learn of his arrival by way of whispers or news from maids, servants, or guards—instead Inutaisho came to her while she was dressing and dismissed Etsuko from the dressing room.

"Lord Inutaisho?" Izayoi asked. They were alone but the door to the room was still ajar. She knew something was amiss at once by the way Inutaisho stood stiff and with an unpleasant, sour expression about his lips.

"Sesshomaru has come to see me."

Izayoi stared at him and did not bother to hide her alarm. "What does he want?"

Inutaisho shook his head once, pursing his lips. "I don't know yet. I am on my way to meet with him."

Izayoi swiftly took in her lover's choice of clothing. The haori and hakama were loose and relaxed, an off-white cream. It was a casual look, an appearance that suggested Inutaisho trusted this visitor, that this was _family_, intimate family. Izayoi doubted that Sesshomaru would have bothered taking off his armor.

A little tremor of fear passed through her heart and mind. Before she could stop it, she said, "Please be careful, Dearest."

Inutaisho chuckled darkly and averted his eyes. "I am not the one you should be concerned for, little Izayoi." He looked back at her with narrowed, worried eyes. "Do not come looking for me. I will find you. We will not see each other until Sesshomaru has gone, but I will have you under a secret watch."

Izayoi made a face, revealing her confusion and seeing it Inutaisho cleared his throat gruffly and elaborated. "I have a close friend. A retainer of sorts. He is so small that he is nearly invisible. You will not know he is near you, but he may be enough of a distraction to give you a chance to escape if something…_unpleasant_ should happen. Sesshomaru does not know him. Do you understand?"

Izayoi nodded and dropped into a little bow. "Yes, Dearest."

Inutaisho strode forward as she stood upright again and laid his palm to her cheek. He smiled at her warmly, lovingly. "I will protect you."

Izayoi leaned into his touch, but then he pulled away and was gone, bidding her a final farewell with his eyes alone.

Though she did not know exactly what she sensed, Izayoi could feel the danger lingering in the air at his news. Sesshomaru had suspected them before. What would he do now? Was it possible that he could know? Had rumors reached him?

Izayoi craned her neck around to gaze that the metallic glint of the mirrors around her in the dressing room. She saw her face, round and soft with youth, but also carved with beauty and vitality. Her long black hair, silky and thick as it flowed down her back. Her skin was aglow, alive with the intensity of her love, her heath, her youth. She was enrobed in the heavy, embroidered kimono that Inutaisho had been making for her now for years as gifts of affection and love.

She was just barely seventeen with the change in the season from summer to deep autumn. And as she stared at her own face in the mirrors a dark thought passed through Izayoi's mind and over her heart, setting it aching at once.

Happiness, like youth—like life—would be fleeting for her.

But Izayoi was not one to dwell on such impressions. She buried it half a second later and went to the door to call Etsuko back into the dressing room to finish styling her hair.

* * *

(A/N: Sesshomaru's Interlude. Takes place _backwards in time to about midsummer. Recall the last time Izayoi and Inutaisho met with Sesshomaru after becoming intimate, but not fully fledged lovers.)_

(Letter from the Setsuna clan to Shiroihana)

Most Honorable Queen,

Please forgive our audacity in writing to you, but we are driven by the direst of circumstances. We beseech you; please ask the Inu no Taisho to return our daughter by law Miyabita Izayoi. The Inu no Taisho has written with word that she has died of illness, but—please forgive our trespass—we have heard this is untrue. We are weak and humble ourselves before your greatness. We ask your mercy.

Takemaru Setsuna

Shiroihana  
(Secret letter to Sesshomaru)

You must come and stay with me this winter. Go to your father. Ask for his permission. Humble yourself before him. Do not take no for an answer. He must let you come and stay with me. There is much we must discuss together.

* * *

Sesshomaru burned notes that arrived from his mother in secret. She typically sent them with a fox or sometimes with Daken, her constantly loyal inuyoukai servant.

For months he had been holed up inside one fortification or another, hidden from view, from the outside world—from intrigue. Sesshomaru did not relish anything but peace in these days. His parents were each deeply involved in their own lives, their own power struggles. Sesshomaru intermittently wanted to kill them both or abandon both, yet really cutting himself apart from them would be as impossible as unbinding the earth and sky.

Though he had spent as much time away from them as possible—with as much distance as he could get without leaving the Western Lands or the Japanese islands altogether—Sesshomaru knew ultimately that he could not run away from them or his situation. He was the heir to these two embittered inuyoukai, their son. He knew that he would need every weapon, every ounce of mental strength, to outlast both his parents.

He needed power. It would be his armor to shield himself from Shiroihana and Inutaisho. If he was stronger than both of them then neither could harm him.

Sesshomaru's number one concern was his father. Inutaisho was the one in power, the one in control, and the most likely of his two parents to turn against him. So it was important that Sesshomaru do everything within his power to avoid provoking Inutaisho. So it was normal for Sesshomaru to burn his mother's attempts to contact him, to sway him into leading an open, outright rebellion against Inutaisho.

Yet when Shiroihana sent the letter from Takemaru that she had received, Sesshomar knew it was time that he take some action. It would be cautious, it would be careful and calculated, but it would be action nevertheless.

It was nearly midsummer when Sesshomaru received those letters, carried by Daken. Sesshomaru was staying in the quiet safety of the remote, peaceful Jouka palace alone, with nothing to entertain him but birdsong, wind, and weather. He left it reluctantly, taking nothing with him except what he could wear on his body, and set out for Nejiro. He considered his rudimentary plan while traveling at a leisurely pace through the depths of deep forests, over the crests of craggy mountains—all remote places, all untouched by concerns of the world.

He met with his father that midsummer and found the great Lord of the West distracted, uncomfortable. They had not been on the best of terms since Inutaisho had uncovered that Sesshomaru had been using Izayoi to spy on and control Shiroihana. But Sesshomaru had always been certain that it was not about what he had done to the girl that had so bothered Inutaisho, instead it was surely that Sesshomaru had kept Shiroihana's infidelity and her bastard child conceived with Koshoshiro all a secret. Any other reason would have baffled Sesshomaru, and indeed, the longer he was with his father during that visit the more he began to wonder what he was _missing._

The letter from Takemaru made more and more sense as time wore on. Sesshomaru had witnessed his father's unusual affection for weakling humans before. At first he had thought that Inutaisho's pity for Izayoi—for Sesshomaru's misuse of her and betrayal through the girl—was explanation enough for Inutaisho's favoritism. But when he saw the girl, by that time grown nearly into a woman by human standards, Sesshomaru felt his gut harden and curdle with nausea and disgust.

They were involved intimately. Sesshomaru spent most of the encounter trying to puzzle out the girl's scent and also watching her face as he had looked at no other human woman. He did not smell his father on or _in_ the girl, but the way she behaved around Inutaisho, the way she had first brightened with pleasure at seeing Sesshomaru and then darkened with terror as she realized who he really was…

Inutaisho called her _daughter_, but Sesshomaru was no fool. Inutaisho might have started out pitying the girl as an innocent, pathetic creature caught in the immortal feud between him and Shiroihana, but now the girl was something more.

Something unnatural. Foul. Disgusting and abominable. If they were not lovers already, they would be very soon.

"_You should be gone. You should be married,"_ Sesshomaru told the girl, using Chinese as Inutaisho had demanded. He hoped to intimidate, to break the girl into spilling the truth as Inutaisho apparently wouldn't.

But Inutaisho defended her and Sesshomaru realized that the encounter was pointless. It only served to irritate his father more the longer it went on. Father and son insulted one another's honor and Sesshomaru left just as Inutaisho lost his patience and ordered him to do just that.

In the long weeks since that visit, Sesshomaru had brooded, troubled. He knew that what Takemaru had written to Shiroihana about was true. Inutaisho had kept Izayoi for his own ends. He wanted to write to his mother, to consult with her on this strange behavior, but did not want to risk having the letter intercepted. He did not know if a message could be trusted to reach its destination without other sets of prying eyes going over it. Sesshomaru was clever and cautious enough to know that if he showed disloyalty his father would probably strike him down. There were almost certainly spies watching him.

If he could not send a message in secret to his mother, then Sesshomaru would have to see her in person, as she originally wished. It was not a sin for a son to want to spend time with his mother.

The only problem was that Shiroihana and Inutaisho had ended their marriage and considered each other bitter enemies. Shiroihana was a sort of captive in her own castle, locked away and constantly under Inutaisho's eye and crushed beneath his fist. Sesshomaru oscillated between feeling that her punishment was more than deserved, and then pitying her and resenting his father. If Sesshomaru was brutally honest he could admit that Shiroihana's actions would have warranted a death sentence in his own eyes—if she had been his wife and not his mother. But those moments of harsh, disconnected honesty were brief and few. He could not escape the past he shared with Shiroihana. Unlike Inutaisho, Shiroihana had been with him from his very first breath. All of his haziest, earliest memories were of her arms, her scent, the taste of her milk, the loving touch of her hands, the caress of her smooth, deep voice as she sang or cooed to him.

Those decisive memories were a curse now. Inescapable, haunting. They prevented him from siding wholly with his father against Shiroihana.

And that put him at great risk.

He delayed as long as he could before setting out again, this time from the Insen, a fortified miniature castle high in desolate mountains. It was rundown and poorly maintained by Inutaisho—all but ignored since Nejiro castle had been completed. Sesshomaru ordered it refurnished during his summer there, writing to his father with the details of the project. Inutaisho had responded favorably, telling Sesshomaru to spend as much as he wanted. It was as if father and son had never quarreled over the stupid human girl.

_He is in a good mood,_ Sesshomaru thought as he stored the letter with its instructions and comments about money and construction. As usual Inutaisho enjoyed revealing his vast knowledge, pretending to be some sort of teacher. He had written using carpenter's language, sometimes slipping into Chinese to cover for symbols that he did not know in Japanese. Sesshomaru barely read most of it, finding it irritating rather than impressive.

In that moment of bitterness the only lessons that Sesshomaru valued from his father were the ones on power, strength, and the sword. Though it rankled him that Inutaisho had not let him wield the Tetsusaiga again, and he had never touched So-Unga.

But the letter suggested that Inutaisho had mostly forgotten their bickering over the girl, so Sesshomaru left a short time later, traveling slowly through the plumage of the mountains, all transformed with autumn colors. He reached Nejiro after a week of this slow, relaxed travel and asked politely for an audience with his father from the ridiculous proliferation of human servants that Inutaisho liked to employ.

He found himself waiting quite a long time inside one of Nejiro's many simple yet elegant audience rooms. The matting was fresh and clean smelling—not like the Insen which stank in a mixture of sweet and sour, mold and rotting straw. Sesshomaru admired the fine wood of the screens, the thick paper of the screens, the few places where gold or silver trimmed sliding doors. The handles were carved for a better grip. The pattern was one of leaves, simple and sturdy. In Kagetsu palace where Shiroihana was waiting for her son to join her for the winter, the handles on the sliding doors were carved to look like faces. They were ornate with delicate fangs and teeth sculpted in the wood of the handle-hold. It was not all that practical. Sesshomaru had broken many of them as a young pup, roughhousing with the monkeys, geckos, or…

He shifted where he was sitting and glanced with a flicker of irritation. _Where are you, Chichiue?_ It was rude to leave a guest waiting, especially family. Sesshomaru suspected that his father was deliberately testing him, insulting him. It was like a smack on the hand to reprimand. It was a reminder that Inutaisho was not fond of his only son and heir.

Sesshomaru lost sight of the understated beauty of the audience room. His hands tightened into fists. Shiroihana had always insisted that Inutaisho did not like his son. He wanted another to replace Sesshomaru…

Then the side door opened and Inutaisho stepped into the room, large, authoritative, and burly with strength. There was no servant to announce Inutaisho with formality and Sesshomaru at once took in his father's casual clothing, his lack of armor and weapons. Perhaps Inutaisho had stopped to change his clothing? Had Sesshomaru caught him about to head off for some small skirmish or battle?

Otherwise there was no logical reason for the delay, except to insult Sesshomaru. It seemed too likely to the young heir in that moment.

Clenching his jaw, Sesshomaru bowed to his father and greeted him formally. "Chichiue."

Inutaisho sat on the hosting platform and let out a grunt. "Sesshomaru." He sniffed loudly and then asked, "What brings you here so late in the season?"

Sesshomaru steeled himself for the negative reaction that he knew would come and stay the moment he mentioned his mother. He ducked his head slightly, pretending not to watch his father's reaction, feigning disinterest. "I have come seeking Chichiue's permission."

Inutaisho sat upright, alert at once. "For what? For marriage?" He barked in laughter. "Have you been away doing something worthwhile for a change?"

It was partly a taunt in true male jest, but it was also a barbed insult to his manhood, to asexuality and lack of interest in carnal relationships. Sesshomaru felt his face burning though he refused to show more emotion to the indignant, unbecoming remark. Instead he let his request work its magic on Inutaisho, souring and disturbing the great Lord of the West.

"No, I wish to spend the winter in Kagetsu Palace with Honorable Mother."

Inutaisho's mirth vanished. He was silent for a long time. The silence invited Sesshomaru to stare at his father in quiet, stern expectation. Sesshomaru tried to bury the resentment within him, but it burned in his chest, stoked by Inutaisho's insults to his honor. He knew it would show itself faintly in his eyes. It was entirely possible that Inutaisho would read it and know that Sesshomaru was challenging his father, daring him.

Finally Inutaisho shook his head with his mouth slightly ajar, as if shocked. But beneath that Sesshomaru could see his father's taut neck muscles, the straight and sharp angles of his shoulders. "Why in the seven hells would you want to go and see _her?"_

"There is no wrong in a son visiting with his mother," Sesshomaru replied with maddening patience. "I have not seen Honorable Mother in a number of years."

"That number being something like two," Inutaisho snapped. He curled his lips in disdain. "My son is a whelp who cannot overcome his milk-memories."

Sesshomaru inhaled sharply, stung deeply at the remark. It was all the more painful because he knew it was more truth than fiction. The insult was grave, biting. It implied uncountable things—that Sesshomaru was weak, that he was misguided, flawed by feminine emotions…

"Ridiculous," Sesshomaru muttered, barely managing to control himself.

"That's exactly what I was thinking," Inutaisho growled, narrowing his golden eyes on his son.

Sesshomaru realized in an eye blink that Inutaisho was insulting him with a purpose. It was not simple cruelty or a challenge or bitterness related to the broken marriage between Inutaisho and Shiroihana. Sesshomaru knew suddenly that Inutaisho was _testing_ him. He was questioning his son's loyalty indirectly by deliberately provoking him. He was searching for a reaction that would give away a hidden motive or plan.

It was one of the first times that Sesshomaru realized with pride that his self-control, his mastery of expression, really did work. His own father did not know what to make of him or his request. Was this a son who genuinely wanted to see his psycho mother out of love? Or was this a threat, a usurper who had come with golden words and manners, speaking peace in one direction and plotting death and despair in another?

Now that he understood what Inutaisho was trying to do, Sesshomaru flushed the mounting frustration, resentment, and hurt, burying it deep inside his psyche where it could not escape soon enough to harm him. He could not let Inutaisho know that he expected to discuss treasonous things with his mother, to entertain the thought of causing his father grief. Whether he _actually_ did those things was another matter entirely.

It was not hard to pretend that he was a son going to see his mother out of love. In spite of what Inutaisho had cruelly said to mock his son, Sesshomaru had not seen Shiroihana in some time. He had pledged allegiance to her, arguably above his father, and yet he had seen more of his father in recent seasons than his mother. He could almost claim to miss her genuinely, but also dreaded her odd quirks, her manipulation, her riddle-speech and spurts of half-madness.

Sesshomaru decided to turn the attack back in a subtle way on his father. Instead of refuting Inutaisho's words—that Sesshomaru was weak and puppyish, smitten with love for his mother—he changed topics slightly. "Chichiue has never spoken of his own Honorable Mother."

It was true. Inutaisho only mentioned his mother in passing, never naming her or describing her in any way except to say fondly on rare occasions that something reminded him of her. Inutaisho had spoken even less of his ancestral clan—the Okou. To Sesshomaru and many others it was as if he had sprung out of China, out of the earth herself. That was what many romantic poets and writers said of him. Yet Sesshomaru knew his father was flesh and blood and bound by all the same earthly rules as himself and Shiroihana.

Inutaisho scowled and stiffened all over again. "My mother has been dead centuries," he muttered dismissively.

Sesshomaru pounced on this, eager to feign the _compassion_ Inutaisho was always going on and on about. "Then Chichiue understands how this Sesshomaru feels."

"Shiroihana is alive. Fool bitch will probably outlive me," Inutaisho snapped, growling.

_That's her plan,_ Sesshomaru thought but showed nothing. He met his father's gaze unflinchingly but felt his gut flutter with self-loathing. Manipulation and deception were tools of the weak. It made him ill to use them against his father.

_And yet that is just what he was doing to me._ But Shiroihana was no better.

"This Sesshomaru could not support Chichiue for fear of Honorable Mother's wellbeing."

"You thought I would kill her," Inutaisho said bluntly. It was a translation of Sesshomaru's flowery, respectful words.

"It was an understandable concern," Sesshomaru said. That was the truth. He had felt certain that Inutaisho would kill Shiroihana in the brief civil war. He had too much pride and honor and bravery to sell out his mother completely. A lesser son would have joined Inutaisho, knowing that he would be the victor and that Shiroihana had indeed sinned against her husband rather liberally. The knowledge that his decision to remain separate from both parents could endanger his life had not frightened Sesshomaru—but the thought of losing his mother was bittersweet, a relief as well as a grievous loss. He would not want to, but he would have resented Inutaisho for her death. It would have only wedged father and son even further apart.

Sesshomaru was grateful to his father for his patience. Inutaisho had proven Sesshomaru wrong by leaving Shiroihana alive.

Inutaisho was scowling, deeply disturbed, fretting and fidgeting in front of his son. Finally he demanded, "How can you _love_ her after what she's done? She would have usurped your position with that damned fool Koshoshiro's pup. She doesn't care about you at all. She has never cared for anything or anyone but herself and her female bloodline."

"Mother would say the same of you, Chichiue," Sesshomaru said blandly. It was an easy response because it was true.

Inutaisho growled and jabbed a clawed finger at Sesshomaru. "You have my permission to spend the winter with her. But I'm watching you both. I'm watching that whole fucking palace. Do you understand?"

Sesshomaru bowed slightly. "This Sesshomaru understands." Inwardly, he thought, _is this humble enough, Mother?_

"Good," Inutaisho said, grunting. "I expect you'll be off then…?"

Sesshomaru hesitated. Inutaisho had switched gears, from aggressive and confrontational to pleasant and even friendly. Sesshomaru sensed falseness, a hidden agenda. He could almost _smell_ it. He had not planned to leave immediately, but wondered now if his father was trying to _tempt_ him or was actually _asking_ him to leave in a very bizarre way.

_He does not want me to be here. _But why?

"It would be unforgivably rude for this Sesshomaru to leave so abruptly."

Inutaisho fidgeted but scoffed, covering almost obvious nervousness. "Drop the formality, Sesshomaru. We both know you only came here to have my leave to run off to your traitorous, whorish—"

Sesshomaru did not bother restraining the irritation in his voice. "Do not speak of her that way."

"Well she isn't your _honorable_ mother, is she? She hasn't been that even once in her whole life." Inutaisho's eyes were glinting, surprisingly bright. He wasn't watching his son for a reaction any more, wasn't laying a trap. Yet this was deliberate taunting all the same. Sesshomaru didn't like it and Inutaisho knew it.

Since their falling out—over the wretched little hostage girl who had finally spilled all the secrets Sesshomaru had worked to contain—Sesshomaru and Inutaisho had done little but glare in one another's company. They had not really spoken all that intensely about Shiroihana before this moment. In the past Inutaisho would have refrained from insulting Shiroihana like this. Not anymore, apparently. In the past it was Sesshomaru's loyalty and position that were under scrutiny and discussion.

"This Sesshomaru will not degrade himself with this discussion," Sesshomaru said, lifting his chin.

Inutaisho's scowl deepened. "Keh." They were silent for a moment and then Inutaisho seemed to sigh, shrinking down a bit. "So you're going to stay here a day or two?"

At last Sesshomaru dropped the strict formality that he had conducted himself with throughout the entire meeting. "I would not insult you by leaving at once."

"Well then," Inutaisho muttered. He stared past Sesshomaru at the far wall, then dropped his eyes down to his own knees. "It seems I will have to remember how to be a suitable host then." He smiled, trying to be lighthearted, but it did not touch his eyes and his lips did not part in his wolfish way to show his teeth. Sesshomaru knew him well enough to guess that his enjoyment was completely feigned.

There could only be two reasons. He did not want his son around—but why would that be? Or more likely inside Sesshomaru's mind at that moment, he did not like his son's company and could not move on from their falling out over the secrets, the betrayal, the stupid girl and the constant, badgering issue of "compassion."

* * *

When Sesshomaru uncovered the true reason behind his father's reluctance to have him there at Nejiro it was only mildly relieving that it wasn't because he despised or distrusted his son.

At first Inutaisho tried to keep Sesshomaru busy. It was pleasant, except for the fact that Sesshomaru did not have to watch his father with all that keen of an eye to realize that Inutaisho was distracted, antsy, and restless. He did not want to be with his son. Sesshomaru tried to tell himself that this didn't hurt him as he discussed the politics of the Western Lands, trivial issues like farming, developments with human clans, and beyond their own lands the other significant areas that Sesshomaru needed to know about as his father's heir.

They ate together, though neither really was hungry. Sesshomaru ate with more gusto than his father. In theory he was fully mature, but Inutaisho was significantly bulkier, more massive and impressive. Sesshomaru sometimes wondered if he would never grow into such a stature. There was muscle and then there was bone structure and Sesshomaru more closely resembled the willowier, thinner frame of the Kosetsu line than Inutaisho's burly, thicker shape.

Long after dark Sesshomaru decided to wander about Nejiro on his own. He had been pleasant and social long enough. Inutaisho reluctantly allowed him to go after every other suggestion proved uninteresting to Sesshomaru.

It was only three hours before dawn when Sesshomaru made his rounds about Nejiro. He stroked the white fur around his shoulder as he walked often, drawing thin comfort from it. He was obscurely looking for anything that would pique his interest. He was halfheartedly spying with the full intent of telling Shiroihana about what he found, if anything.

He did not truly want to find Izayoi. He knew Inutaisho did not trust him around the girl and though it should have been impossible, Sesshomaru thought he could sense his father's distant vigilance, his tenseness. He was like a dog guarding his food, a wolf lording over his kill. Sesshomaru was like the fox or the coyote sniffing around the outskirts, seeking scraps.

The upper halls where Sesshomaru would have slept if he had felt the need smelled…off. They had been cleaned, scrubbed within the last few hours. The sheets in Inutaisho's room had been changed out, yet every other room was neglected. The odor of the cleaning solutions, soaps and oils, blocked out any lingering scents. Sesshomaru wrinkled his nose at the strength of it as he passed through. The hallway was unfit for an inuyoukai in its current state. Even if Sesshomaru had been tired and in need of sleep he would have done it elsewhere. The stink was giving him a bitter headache.

Sesshomaru did not venture into the area where the girl had slept the last he'd known. He knew that it would be a grave error. Inutaisho was waiting for him to make some obvious blunder. So Sesshomaru wandered outside into the courtyard instead. He crunched the frost beneath his booted feet, quietly delighting in the crisp sound. He watched his breath pool out in front of him in two streams, one from each nostril. When the sun rose he heard the first frost crackle as it shied away from the sun's faint late fall warmth.

Then he left the courtyard, walking deliberately to the tearoom where he knew the girl would likely take breakfast. He did not stay in the same hall, but instead lingered around a corner, wearing a bored expression. His acute ears told him when a maid or other servant came or went. He had positioned himself in a place he knew the girl probably would not approach from, but even if she did, he could smell her from 20 feet away in the narrow confines of the castle's corridors.

The plan went perfectly. Izayoi's tread was different from the maids' and other servants' footsteps. It was relaxed, confident, yet made with short, small steps like any weak, demure mortal woman. Sesshomaru heard the maids serve breakfast. The clink of the dishes, the watery noise of the tea as it was poured. He heard Izayoi thank them, bright and cheery, well-rested.

Sesshomaru did not know where his father was and doubted that Inutaisho had left the girl completely unprotected. He flexed his hand, flicked the fingers, and strode around the corner. The hallway was clear. Sesshomaru moved forward at a swift, determined pace, reaching the door to where Izayoi was eating. He paused outside of it, knowing the girl and the maids had poor hearing and would not have heard him approach.

The air was still, motionless, even stale. But with each inhalation Sesshomaru knew more about the room, in spite of the fact that he had not even opened the door to it. The tea was hot and made of an herb Sesshomaru knew was too spicy for inuyoukai to enjoy. Izayoi was eating rice and sea bream and yellow pickles. Sesshomaru would have eaten whale meat. She had bathed and smelled of tangy oils and soaps. It was a strong odor, but not unpleasant.

Sesshomaru laid his claws over the door and started to roll it open when a voice piped up behind him, high pitched and whiny. "My lord! Lord Sesshomaru! No!"

Sesshomaru inhaled with alarm and whirled around, slashing at the air—but there was no one there.

He had opened the door enough that the maid and Izayoi could see part of his body—particularly the fluffiness of the white fur about one shoulder. The maid cried out and Izayoi gasped. The table thumped, the china rattled.

Sesshomaru's senses were whirring. He had heard someone speak, but the hallway was filled with too many scents, nothing stood out. There was a faint aura, but it could have belonged to a youkai wandering in the wilds ten miles away.

"Sesshomaru!" Izayoi gawped. She was not bowing and had forgotten formality in her panic. She had backed into the far corner, helpless and pathetic in her terror. Sesshomaru expected that at any moment she would piss herself with fear. It was both amusing and annoying. Disgusting. He forgot the voice and streaked in a blur for her. The motion, and his closeness to her, brought more scents—the ones he needed.

It was dim, a mere hint, but it was there. Sesshomaru recognized Inutaisho's scent _inside_ the girl, his father's seed.

At once he wanted to kill her, to slash her down where she cowered, crying and trembling, mumbling incoherently. He raised an arm with the fingers tensed, the claws readied…

"No! No! My Lord Sesshomaru! You mustn't harm her!"

The voice distracted him, making him pause. Sesshomaru knew that killing the girl _now_ would be a death sentence. She was his father's property, his mate.

Before reason could abandon him again, Sesshomaru pivoted and left the room.

His first impulse was to leave the castle, but after his small attack on his father's young, mortal lover, Sesshomaru knew that would be a mistake. Instead he retreated to the library and pulled out something in Chinese to force his mind away from the situation. He was waiting for his father to come to him.

It happened in only 10 minutes. Inutaisho came in a quiet, intense rage, like a bull. "What the hell's-a-matter with you?" Inutaisho demanded, slurring the words together in his wrath. His face his face was mottled white and red in uneven patches.

"Chichiue," Sesshomaru said calmly, in greeting. Ten minutes had been more than enough for him to regain control and keep it. To steel himself for this onslaught. "I must ask the same of you."

Inutaisho reared back and blinked, sputtering. He had apparently stormed into the room with no plan of exactly what to say to his meddling, troublesome son. Finally he moved into Sesshomaru's personal space, almost poking Sesshomaru in the nose with his hard, sharp claw. Sesshomaru stared at it dispassionately, refusing to flinch. He had not hurt Izayoi, only frightened her. Inutaisho would bluster and threaten, but he had no real reason to physically attack his son—and Sesshomaru was counting on the deep inuyoukai bonds of blood to keep Inutaisho from striking him. Izayoi might have been his mate, but Sesshomaru was his _blood._ It was the only thing that had kept Sesshomaru alive during their falling out and both of them knew it.

"You are never to touch her again, never to even _look_ at her!" Inutaisho shouted, spitting.

"I did not touch her," Sesshomaru murmured. "That is your affair only."

Inutaisho withdrew again, cursing colorfully. He began growling and forming halfway understandable phrases as he paced, thumping on the floor. "You can't understand—I don't—you have no heart—no soul—just like your damned mother."

Sesshomaru ignored the taunt, fully aware that he had the upper hand in this bout of insults. "At least Mother stayed within her species."

Inutaisho let out a bark, harsh and loud, punctuating the air like a clap of thunder. "She would eat them rather than—"

For the first and possibly the last time in his life, Sesshomaru used a very vulgar word. "—Fuck them?"

Inutaisho snarled, glaring viciously at his son. _"It is nothing like that."_

"Chichiue left Mother behind for a short-lived, pathetic mortal." It was petty but Sesshomaru thoroughly enjoyed the reversal. Now _he _was taunting Inutaisho, son turned on father. But even as he spoke this latest torment, Sesshomaru knew he had made an error. He was not entirely sure why he had said it. Izayoi had not been an adulteress that forced her way into a good marriage and tore it apart. She was a toy that Inutaisho had consoled himself with.

"Fool!" Inutaisho raged at his son and, suddenly, lashed out, knocking the table with its scrolls and open books in Chinese aside, scattering them over the floor. Sesshomaru did finally flinch at the full force of his father's anger. "Your mother had _nothing_ to do with this! Shiroihana left _me_—she was never with me. Never."

"Perhaps you should not have killed her brother," Sesshomaru murmured.

"That miserable bastard would have had her kill _you."_ Inutaisho grabbed at his son's neck, holding him firmly in his grip, pricking Sesshomaru's pale, smooth young skin with his claws enough to sting but not draw blood. "And the stupid bitch loved him so much she would have done it!" He shook Sesshomaru, jolting him a bit though the young inuyoukai made no effort to push his father away. "Now what do you think of that, _Sesshomaru?_ You're named for the uncle who wanted you fucking dead."

Sesshomaru slashed, a short, quick, efficient stroke. Inutaisho hissed and withdrew. The scent of blood entered the room, thick and musky. Inutaisho glared at Sesshomaru and then pressed his lips and mouth to the narrow wound, cleaning away the blood with his tongue. A moment later he sighed—not in anger, but in pain, in grief.

"Go back to your mother, traitor. Your Queen."

Sesshomaru's gut tightened in something akin to premonition, to foreboding. A thousand possibilities spun in his head. Inutaisho would kill both he and Shiroihana for this little mishap, he would disown Sesshomaru and leave him in exile with Shiroihana, or worse than all the others—Inutaisho was right and whatever had happened in that long ago, distant past had all been a scheme of Shiroihana's, a dupe that Sesshomaru had believed forever. Hadn't Shiroihana always wanted a daughter, not a son? Was it true that Sesshomaru's namesake, his uncle, could have wanted Shiroihana to kill her son instead of raise him and make him her heir?

"Chichiue," he started, unwilling to leave on these terms, unprepared for the strange emotion that roiled in his chest at the thought of being disowned, exiled, or having to face this magnificent creature—his _father_ in battle. He wanted to apologize but the words were caught in his throat, as immovable as mountains.

Inutaisho glanced up with a glare. A faint smear of crimson blood still lingered over the inner portions of his lips. "Just get out of here," he growled, but even that was lackluster. "I don't want to have to kill you."

"Chichiue," Sesshomaru repeated, a little louder now, as if that might get the words out of his throat, past his lips.

"Go!" Inutaisho roared. "Now!"

Though he did not want to, something propelled Sesshomaru from the room, from the castle. He kept going until he could no longer sense his father's powerful demonic aura in the distance, some ten miles at least. Then his pace slowed and he lingered in the afternoon shadows, disturbed and whining to himself with internal grief and remorse, confusion and loss. He longed for the peace and solitude of Jouka and the Insen, for the loneliness of the mountaintops, but he could not have them. He had to go to Shiroihana for the winter. And if Inutaisho attacked he would have to take a stand beside his mother.

He had chosen his side after all.

* * *

Endnote: I will give everyone ONE guess (lol) as to who Inutaisho's very small, unnoticeable friend was, and the resulting voice that distracted Sess long enough for him to backoff and come to his senses. ONE guess.

Also, here Inu-papa listed off what _he_ thought of Sesshomaru's namesake, Shiroihana's younger brother. It has been my devious goal all along to leave you wondering whether Shiroihana's brother did indeed have some other motives, something less than the purity that Shiroihana saw. Inutaisho always insisted that there was something else. So, which one do you believe? Unfortunately the best way to cast this kind of literary doubt is to tell the tale in first person I-voice. I didn't do that because doggone it I like third person. But still, I try to flavor them with a bit of the narrator in each. So, considering that Shiroihana is about as trustworthy as a fox with a bunch of hens...who was right? Or is this hindsight and excuses from Inutaisho with Shiroihana meanwhile unable to get over the past?

This preview might change because I am not happy with what little work I have done on the next upcoming chapter so...

_Izayoi felt tears prick her eyes. "But I will grow old and die. I will leave you anyway, whether I have a child or not." She sniffled, snuggling into his broad, warm chest. "You will be alone."_

_Inutaisho was silent briefly and then he laughed harshly, whistling through his nose. "Keh, with nothing but my heartless son and that bitch Shiroihana. Both of them plotting against me, both of them younger."_

_"How long do hanyou live?" Izayoi asked._

_Inutaisho growled. "You're not going to convince me, Izayoi."_

_"How long?" she insisted, raising her voice slightly._

Until later my friends!_  
_


	25. Inutaisho's Reluctance

A/N: SO SORRY for my long absence, like a full month! I have been VERY busy with my wedding. We are now like 4 days away. I am getting married Saturday Sept 4 at 2 pm. My dress is amazing, but now we have to do all the tedious things and get down to the stuff that makes you want to scream, tear out your hair, grab the marriage license, some Trojans, and just say, "Screw it all! Just consummate the marriage with me now and we'll call it good!" But alas, then I would have spent all this money and made all these reservations for nothing. AHHHH!

Disclaimer: I do not own them

Last Chapter: I cannot remember. I think Sess threatened Izayoi and Inutaisho sent him packing. There was some fun dialogue exchanged and I actually got Sesshy to say "Fuck" and still be pretty much in character.

* * *

"Struggle" by Sidney Lanier

My soul is like the oar that momently  
Dies in a desperate stress beneath the wave,  
Then glitters out again and sweeps the sea:  
Each second I'm new-born from some new grave.

* * *

Izayoi

(Journal)

I looked into the mirrors while I was dressing today. It is hard to see the true color of my skin in them, but I am as pale as the clouds in the sky. This winter weather has taken so much out of me. I am as skinny as a blade of grass. I cannot understand how my dearest continues to love me so much, but he is as constant in my life as the sky.

May it always be so.

* * *

**Inutaisho's Reluctance**

Moments after Sesshomaru left the tearoom after swooping in like a hawk on an unsuspecting mouse, Izayoi collected herself. She stayed frozen in the corner, breathing heavily, but she cleared the tears of fright from her cheeks and eyes, frowning at her own weakness. She looked to the maid, who had been equally terrified, and cleared her throat. "He's gone."

The maid cried out quietly, but whatever she tried to say was warped by fear until it was lost entirely.

The table was a mess. The cups had spilled or overturned. Dark tea dripped from where Izayoi had been sitting onto the matting on the floor. Some of the pickles had rolled from their serving plate and now laid motionless on the floor.

Izayoi crawled forward, heedless of her heavy, elaborate robes in all their finery, and picked up the pickles, setting them awkwardly back onto the table. Once that was done she righted the cups and called for a rag to wipe up the spilled tea. The maid, finally gathering her senses, obediently left the room to get it.

Only minutes had passed when Inutaisho appeared in the doorway, a furious whirlwind of power and energy. His golden eyes were dark, burning. "Are you all right?" he demanded.

Izayoi nodded mutely. Her mind was empty, frozen. She had both expected and doubted that Sesshomaru would attack her. Now that it had indeed happened but she had escaped unharmed, Izayoi was stunned.

Inutaisho took her in with his eyes and sniffed loudly, needing as many senses as he could get to verify what she'd said. Then he nodded and his shoulders dropped with relief. "I will return to you as soon as possible—I must confront Sesshomaru. In the meantime I will leave you with Myoga."

"Myoga?" Izayoi asked, frowning.

"I will explain later," Inutaisho reassured her. He was anxious, eager to leave her and find Sesshomaru.

Izayoi bowed and when she looked up, Inutaisho was gone.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a thick haze. Izayoi started at every creak in the floor or the stairs—and when a maid opened a door to serve her the evening meal, Izayoi's heart fluttered like a butterfly, caged between a person's palms. The sound of the sliding door, grating on its track, disturbed her beyond reason.

When Inutaisho finally came to her late that evening, after she had retired to her bedchambers, he was somber and sad. He embraced her with a desperation that Izayoi hadn't felt before, a tenderness she hadn't expected. Yet she was grateful for it—the moment distracted and calmed her.

"I thought I could keep him busy," Inutaisho whispered to her as he held her wrapped in his arms. His cheek and jaw rested against the top of her head. He had to slouch to make the position work, even while sitting on the floor. "He will never threaten you again—never threaten us. I will never leave you completely alone again, Izayoi."

For the first time all day, Izayoi felt a trickle of amusement as shock gave way to relief. She smiled to herself, pressed firmly against his chest. "Even when I'm in the privy?" she asked jokingly.

She expected him to laugh, to understand her joking demeanor. Instead he said, "Even then Myoga will be close by." He growled in reaction to his own words, both amused and irritated. "But if that little bloodsucker ever _truly_ invades your privacy or bites you, I'll—"

"_What?"_ Izayoi squawked, pulling away to stare at him in bafflement and shock.

Inutaisho's face might have colored slightly in the orange light of the brazier, but it was difficult for Izayoi to tell with her human eyes. "Myoga is a flea," he explained. "A flea youkai. He has been my personal spy and loyal patron for several hundred years now. He has little power but he is virtually unnoticeable—even to other youkai—unless he chooses to reveal himself."

"A spy?" Izayoi asked, breathing the words heavily. She was repulsed at the thought of a parasite such as a flea and had no idea what to expect of this miniscule servant. How often had he been with her and she had not been aware of it?

Inutaisho shook his head, reading her concern. "I have only recently asked Myoga to come to Nejiro and look after you. He is an excellent conversationalist and very polite as far as insects go."

The smirk on Inutaisho's face struck Izayoi as hilarious and she burst out laughing. It was a nervous titter, a release of her tension. Before she had quite finished laughing, Inutaisho's smirk turned more into a genuine, warm smile. He pulled her closer to him again, kissing her lips, then her nose and her closed eyelids. His clawed hands tickled and teased as they combed through her long, loose hair.

"Lovely Izayoi, my hope, my joy…"

Izayoi clung onto him, sighing in tranquility and satisfaction. Sesshomaru was nothing but a distant nightmare while she was in her lover's powerful arms.

* * *

The next morning, while she was dressing with Etsuko—the maid no longer spoke to Izayoi, merely performed her duties while Izayoi stared at her own reflection in the mirror—Inutaisho arrived. He greeted both young women with a slight nod of his head, respect and love aimed at Izayoi rather than Etsuko, meanwhile the two youths bowed deeply to him in return.

"I have brought someone to officially meet you, Lady Izayoi."

"My lord?" Izayoi asked, looking up curiously. She could see no one around him.

Then she began to see a speck of movement, an insect, hopping and crawling about on Inutaisho's broad right shoulder. The darkness of the flea's body set against the bright white of Inutaisho's hair was probably the only reason that Izayoi detected the other presence at all.

"Lady Izayoi, on my shoulder is Myoga. Myoga—go and greet her properly." Inutaisho lifted one palm up to his shoulder and the speck jumped onto it easily. Izayoi heard it mumble a formal thank you in a scratchy voice.

Etsuko let out a little sound of fear and disgust from where she was bent over, bowing on the floor. Though Izayoi was equally unsure, she felt irritated that Etsuko could not control herself. She resisted the desire to glare at the maid—barely.

Inutaisho stepped close to Izayoi but stopped an arm's length from her. He held his palm outward and upward. Izayoi squinted her eyes until she saw the little insect there, bowing with two sets of arms lying flat on Inutaisho's palm.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Izayoi!" Myoga announced. He did not sit up though. He was waiting for her to acknowledge him.

Izayoi's warm brown eyes flicked to Inutaisho with amusement. He was solemn, but she could read his own enjoyment in the hawk-like gold. Inutaisho had not lied when he said that the flea was well-mannered.

"And it is a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Myoga," Izayoi said and meant it. Though she had begun this introduction with trepidation, now she was pleased and entertained. No matter how small the creature, Inutaisho could find it useful, he could care for it. She felt a warmth inside when it occurred to her that _she_ was not unlike this same flea to Inutaisho, small and seemingly insignificant. But Inutaisho saw the world with a view that broke rules and boundaries, eyes that Izayoi adored.

Myoga sat up in his master's hand and let out a sound of disbelief—but his voice was gravelly, hoarse. "Lady Izayoi is by far the most beautiful, stunning human woman I have seen!"

Izayoi looked away, covering her lips with her hand to cover the embarrassed smile. "Thank you," she murmured.

"Master! She is delightful!" Myoga went on.

"Stop, Myoga," Inutaisho said, laughing. His gaze lingered on Izayoi's humbleness, her tender reaction to such drastic compliments. "It's not as if you have not seen her from afar."

"No," Myoga mumbled, fidgeting suddenly with nervousness. "But the lady's beauty is magnified the closer and closer I see her!"

"It was you," Izayoi said, realizing that she had heard this voice before, the previous day. "It was you I heard, Mr. Myoga."

"My lady?" the flea asked, turning back to her and bowing slightly.

"In the tearoom yesterday, when Sesshomaru—"

"Ah, yes," Myoga said, interrupting her. "It was indeed me. My duty was to trail Lord Sesshomaru to see that he did not trouble you. Lord Inutaisho and I hoped that he would not seek you out, but we naturally did not trust him. I'm afraid he is a most troublesome heir—too strong for his own good."

"Enough," Inutaisho snapped, scowling as the talk about his only son went on too long. Izayoi stared at her lover and felt her chest ache with empathy. For all his power, love, and understanding, Inutaisho could not control his son.

"My apologies, Master!" Myoga squeaked.

Inutaisho went onto another tangent, bringing the meeting back to its original course. "Myoga will accompany you now throughout the days when you are without me. He cannot protect you from true harm, but he can quickly reach me with news if there is trouble. He is very knowledgeable and will help you should you ever encounter any situation that you are not prepared for."

Izayoi bowed. "Thank you, Lord Inutaisho."

"Master?" Myoga asked, clearing his throat. He scooted around on Inutaisho's palm. "I am to become Lady Izayoi's retainer?"

Inutaisho nodded. "You will serve us both. There is always a place and a purpose for one as intelligent and stealthy as you, Myoga."

Inutaisho was flattering the flea, and as Myoga bowed and thanked him reverently, meaning every word of loyalty and love, Izayoi saw how clever Inutaisho was. She had always known he was smart, quick-witted and talented in many ways, but now she saw how he differed from Shiroihana and Sesshomaru in ways aside from compassion. Unlike them he impressed servants with flattery and purpose. The flea would never betray Inutaisho, never feel slighted by him. He would be loyal unto death with the intensity of his devotion.

Izayoi knew that emotion well—she felt it for Inutaisho as well.

Inutaisho was unconventional, untraditional. He did things as he saw fit to do them. If there was an advantage to something, Inutaisho did it, no matter what society would think.

"My son does not know about Myoga," Inutaisho went on, speaking to Izayoi now. "He will no doubt uncover him, but he has been my servant and retainer in secret. Ostensibly I have no confidants," Inutaisho said, grinning like a wolf on an afternoon romp. "My son thinks I do everything alone, just as he would—but all the strength in the world and in Heaven and Hell, cannot be enough without the aid of others. It is something he cannot bring himself to understand. We will use it against him and his mother."

"My lord?" Myoga asked, confused. There was something else, unspoken in Inutaisho's pronouncement.

Inutaisho dropped his chin and lowered his voice. His golden eyes darkened ominously. "I have decided to order an edict against my son."

"What do you mean?" Izayoi asked, whispering.

"He is unfit. I have ordered that he is no longer my heir. I have—"

"My lord!" Myoga interrupted brazenly. "But you have no other sons! You have no wife!"

Inutaisho ignored him. "I have declared him an enemy. In the spring, if he has not changed his ways, I will order his death."

Izayoi opened her mouth to disagree, to plead with the Lord of the Western Lands to reconsider. She knew that although he appeared somber and deadly serious, beneath that shell Inutaisho was mourning, grief-stricken at the thought of doing such a thing. It was not simply that Inutaisho only had one child, one son, one potential heir.

Her loved Sesshomaru as deeply as he loved Izayoi—and that was the problem.

"Lord Inu—"

"There will be no debating this," Inutaisho told her, silencing her. "I have made up my mind."

Izayoi and Myoga both bowed to acknowledge his decision, but Izayoi sensed that the flea was unhappy just as she was, probably for the same reasons. As wrong as Sesshomaru was, as cruel and heartless, Inutaisho loved him just as any father would. How could they let him go through with it?

It would destroy him from the inside out.

* * *

The winter set in, hard and fierce, with blowing storms and mounds of snow and ice. Izayoi watched outside of her window between storms, depressed and anxious for the springtime. Inutaisho spent almost every night with her. Most of the time they made love, a controlled, slow work of care and bliss. But afterwards Inutaisho lied beside her and Izayoi sensed that he was far away, thinking of his son, of the gradual march of the winter season.

If the springtime brought no word from Sesshomaru, no sign of reconciliation, Inutaisho would give the word for his armies—for any youkai in the Western Lands, to track down his son and tear him apart. To bring Sesshomaru's head to Inutaisho. It was a dishonorable death, a shameful punishment. The proper way for a son to die by a father's command was with a fight between the two, not an execution by armies, rogue youkai, or any beast that thought he could take Sesshomaru on. It was a bitter move that spoke of Inutaisho's broken heart.

Sometimes Inutaisho made an effort to act as though he was excited for war, for the tumultuous time ahead. He spoke animatedly of strategy, of the battlefield. Izayoi listened with a growing heaviness in her heart, then her guts and legs. She could not keep the sadness from her face, but Inutaisho did not acknowledge it. They both knew he was lying to her, lying to himself—and neither of them believed he was eager for spring and summer, for the death of his only child.

During the daytime Izayoi took lessons from Myoga and other, new tutors. She practiced writing alone and began to learn Chinese characters from a toad youkai that Inutaisho had hired from the mainland. Myoga always accompanied her, sharing the vastness of his youkai knowledge. While she walked through the hallways, Myoga chattered about one thing or another, or sometimes when Izayoi was lucky the flea regaled her with tales of Inutaisho on the battlefield with the panther demons.

She grew quickly to like the flea. He was patient, a good teacher, and constantly friendly and informative. He enjoyed her questions as many of her hired teachers never did, relishing her interest. He never bit her but when Inutaisho joined Izayoi for the nights, or for a casual lesson in conversational Chinese, Myoga always left eagerly. It didn't take Izayoi long to realize that he was running off to bite someone and feast. He usually returned with a pleasant, sated look on his face and with s distinctly plumper body than before. Izayoi learned to ignore this aspect of him, just as Inutaisho did.

One thing that Izayoi and Myoga shared especially in common with one another was their concern for Inutaisho's decision to disinherit and eventually kill Sesshomaru.

"It's a grave mistake," Myoga sighed on her shoulder while Izayoi practiced writing new kanji characters on her own time in one of Nejiro's multiple libraries.

"I'm afraid to try and change his mind," Izayoi confessed. "I've done it before. He was ready to kill Sesshomaru a few years ago as well."

"You must try, Lady Izayoi! You are one of very few beings in his world that can influence him so powerfully!" Myoga laughed then. "If only Sesshomaru knew that you have already saved his life once before! Perhaps he would appreciate you as his father does."

Izayoi frowned and laughed with embarrassment. She knew that Myoga had not meant _appreciate_ in a sexual manner but she could not stop herself from seeing Inutaisho naked in her mind's eye, his long, muscular body on top of or below her own.

Myoga did not miss her reaction and made no effort himself to disguise the fact that he knew what went on between Izayoi and Inutaisho when he was not present. "You naughty girl!" he teased. "You should be ashamed!"

Yet although she and the flea could cover their doubt with humor, it did not diminish the growing unease as the winter progressed unstoppably toward spring.

But then something happened that distracted all of them from the upcoming change in the season. One day in January Izayoi felt especially tired. She moved through her day sluggishly, yawning often. That night when she went to the privy—with Myoga waiting outside as always—Izayoi discovered that she was bleeding. It was a little later than usual and Izayoi thought nothing of it.

She went into seclusion during her times of menstruation. Even Myoga visited infrequently. The bleeding was longer and heavier than usual, but although Izayoi was fatigued, she was not alarmed. Life marched onward.

When she had finished at last, she expected Inutaisho to visit her the same night, as he always did, but when she saw him that day he was distant. He had trouble meeting her eyes. It was deeply disturbing and when he did not visit her at night but instead sent Myoga to stay with her, Izayoi bit back a sudden rush of tears and grief. Even Myoga seemed awkward, fidgeting and talking rapidly about nothing. Though she asked him over and over again why Inutaisho was not with her instead, he managed to evade the question until finally she went to sleep, but the night passed fitfully.

The next day and night were normal with Inutaisho. It was not long before Izayoi put the experience behind her.

Then, as winter was beginning to warm and give way to the dreaded springtime—it was perhaps the only time that Izayoi would think of the spring with dread—a similar thing happened. First Izayoi realized that her time of bleeding was late and she noted that Inutaisho's behavior changed. She caught him watching her with a frown and tried to keep her own face from falling with sadness.

Then she did at last begin to bleed—a week or two later than usual. She went into seclusion and suffered alone and in silence as her body seemed to go haywire. Her abdomen ached and cramped until she felt nauseous. She bled very heavily, staining bed covers, her clothes, and the matting. It went on and on, lasting a full week and a half. It left Izayoi exhausted as well, and depressed.

On the afternoon when she finally stopped bleeding, Izayoi woke bathed in sweat. She had overslept and that only contributed to her exhaustion. She rose up out of bed, donning a thin robe, and opened her window to look out. The sun had come out; it shined bright and merry in spite of Izayoi's gloomy mood. The snows were melting rapidly. She sat in front of the window, breathing in the dense, cool air, letting it dry the sweat from her temples and neck.

Though she had not expected him, Izayoi did not start when she heard the door open and turned her head and saw that it was Inutaisho. Inutaisho came and sat next to her beside the window. Izayoi's eyes were closed as she listened to the birdsong, to the return of spring. Inutaisho was silent, not even the sound of his breathing reached Izayoi's ears. She could almost have imagined that she saw Inutaisho come in until she felt his hand on her head, stroking her hair. She turned her head and beamed, smiling at him.

"Dearest," she murmured, bowing slightly.

Each time that he was apart from Izayoi for more than a day or so she was reminded of how massive he was, how enormous and powerful. In spite of her exhaustion, Izayoi felt her body stir sluggishly with desire. Inutaisho's face was warm, mirroring some of her own longing, though how exactly he could think of her with attraction in this moment was beyond Izayoi's understanding. Izayoi had not missed the way her eyes had developed heavy gray circles beneath them, or that her hair had lost some of its shine—and her skin could have competed with the pale white of the melting snow.

"Don't exert yourself," Inutaisho told her gently, touching her shoulder to stop her from ducking any lower in her bow. "I've come to tell you something."

Izayoi's shoulders were heavy with fatigue but she hefted them up and smiled. "What is it?"

Inutaisho shifted, gazing out the window. His amber eyes were hazy and dark. Izayoi realized that he had not come with good news. He sighed and then said, "I know why you have been ill."

Izayoi frowned. It was not exactly _illness_, just unusually heavy and long menstruation. Bleeding like that for one week out of every month was, naturally, exhausting. "Dearest?" she asked, her tone indicating she didn't understand.

Inutaisho peeked at her and chuckled. "As usual I am to blame for your struggles."

"What?" Izayoi blurted, thoroughly confused. Yet she felt the strong need to deny it. "You have never been the cause of any—"

"Keh," Inutaisho grunted, laughing fully now. His white teeth glittered. "You cannot be serious, little Izayoi. I am the cause of every disaster that has befallen you. My son and my wife tortured you. I have stolen away your future by bewitching you into loving me and then taking your innocence. And now—"

Izayoi shook her head firmly and reached out to take hold of his cheeks, then when that didn't silence him, she laid her palms over his mouth. Inutaisho nipped and licked at them and Izayoi squealed at the sensation in spite of her tiredness. "I have had a part in everything that has happened," Izayoi argued. "Sometimes even more than you, dearest."

Inutaisho's smile was melancholy but filled with warmth and affection. He closed the distance between them, kissing her for a few moments, then pulled back and cupped her face in his clawed hands, careful not to scratch her. He made very deliberate eye contact with her as he spoke next. "I am very certain I am the cause of your illness."

Izayoi waited expectantly for him to go on.

"You have miscarried several times now," Inutaisho murmured, caressing her temples with his thumbs. "I have been careless. I took you while you were fertile. So you see, I am at fault."

Izayoi sat back as Inutaisho let go of her, shocked and speechless. Finally she said, "I don't understand. Wouldn't I know? How can _you_ know?"

Inutaisho smirked with both pride and amusement at her response. "I thought by now little Izayoi that you would understand me better."

Izayoi frowned, upset at this. "How am I supposed to—"

"Hush," Inutaisho ordered, touching her mouth with a clawed finger, he left it there longer than he needed to, tracing the shape of her lips. "My senses are greater than yours, little Izayoi. I can smell your body's secrets." He pulled back from her, looking away and closing his eyes. The light of the afternoon flowed in, artificially brightening his face. "It's been centuries since I smelled those hormones." He shook his head, as if dazed or being bothered by a pesky housefly.

Izayoi recognized longing in the set of his face, the sadness and regret. She recalled that Shiroihana had refused to give him more children. It struck her then how _badly,_ how _desperately_ he had wanted those unborn, uncreated children.

In spite of the discomfort she had just endured, Izayoi felt her body warm with excitement and joy at the knowledge that—no matter how briefly—she had been a vessel for a child of Inutaisho's.

At that moment Inutaisho opened his eyes and noticed her smile and his sadness vanished, souring into irritation. "Izayoi," he barked. "I know what you're thinking—don't."

Izayoi clung stubbornly to that excitement. She cleared away her smile and said nothing, but her heart was full and cheery in a way it had not been in months. It was difficult to hide, especially since she didn't want to hide it. She wanted to laugh and cry, to hug Inutaisho to her and share her emotion at the thought of carrying his child…

"I've told you before," Inutaisho muttered bitterly. "We cannot have children."

Izayoi knew she should be silent. She should accept his words as the wisdom they had to be, but she couldn't do it. "Why not? You told me that it does not happen often—but twice? Really? I thought it would never happen! I thought it couldn't!"

Inutaisho took her by the shoulders firmly; squeezing them to be sure he had her attention. He stared into her eyes somberly. "It would probably kill you, and the child would not survive. It would only ruin what we have together. There can be no children between us. That was what I came to tell you."

Izayoi shrugged off his hands with sudden anger. "No—I know you want children. I've seen it on your face, heard it in your voice every time you talk about Sesshomaru…"

"Sesshomaru is pureblooded!" Inutaisho yelled, interrupting her, driving the point home. "He is Shiroihana's son. Inuyoukai blood is too strong to mix with a human's. Do you understand? A child between us would be a monster, a bloodthirsty beast that would hunt and kill thoughtlessly…"

Izayoi hated the words, the image that tried to conjure with it—something like Shiroihana with a whip, attacking Izayoi. Izayoi remembered the blood, the stink of her own torn flesh, seared in the green power…

But worse than imagining it was seeing Inutaisho's pinched, pained expression as he described it. She realized he had seen something similar before. "Are all hanyou like that?" she whispered.

Inutaisho pulled her close, embracing her, caressing her back. "Most are. I have seen many. They can be formidable creatures, strong warriors. But they are cursed. And most of them are blights on this earth, destined to lose their minds and die."

"Have you ever seen one between one of your kind and a human?" Izayoi asked quietly. She knew he had seen kitsune hanyou before, but did it matter what species of demon mixed with the humans?

Inutaisho sighed and shook his head. "No, surprisingly not. Most of us are clannish, too busy interbreeding and fighting to take up a human lover long enough to spawn a child."

Izayoi thought that made sense. Dog demons were ethereal, distant and powerful. Kitsune were tricksters who delighted in seduction, shape shifting and mischief. Dog demons might live with humans around them, but they remained separate from them, looking down on them just as the humans viewed them with fear.

"What if our child was beautiful? What if it was sane and healthy?" Izayoi asked quietly.

"It would not be worth losing you," Inutaisho whispered into the top of her head.

Izayoi felt tears prick her eyes. "But I will grow old and die. I will leave you anyway, whether I have a child or not." She sniffled, snuggling into his broad, warm chest. "You will be alone."

Inutaisho was silent briefly and then he laughed harshly, whistling through his nose. "Keh, with nothing but my heartless son and that bitch Shiroihana. Both of them plotting against me, both of them younger."

"How long do hanyou live?" Izayoi asked.

Inutaisho growled. "You're not going to convince me, Izayoi."

"How long?" she insisted, raising her voice slightly.

He sighed, giving in. "I'm not sure. It depends on the individual. Longer than mortals. I saw a kitsune hanyou grow into an adult in the same amount of time as a mortal man, but he did not age the same after that."

"I love you," Izayoi murmured into his chest after a pause, content with this information and at last resigning to her fatigue.

Inutaisho chuckled. "And I you, little Izayoi—but I am serious. Do you understand?"

Izayoi sighed. "Yes."

* * *

For the next several months, as spring slowly unfolded outside, Inutaisho avoided Izayoi for two weeks of every month. Once when she was menstruating, the other when she was fertile. It irritated Izayoi. She was not afraid of conceiving his child; in fact she secretly longed for it and tried purposefully to seduce him during the weeks when she was fertile. Inutaisho had trouble revisiting her—especially during the time she was fertile. His sense of smell was very strong, and Izayoi had learned long ago that he was a creature ruled by his senses, by his instincts, and by his heart. His body was drawn to hers when she was fertile; it was hard to deny the strong instinct.

When the weather had warmed up significantly, travel recommenced. Kitsune messengers visited with gifts from Shiroihana and Sesshomaru. They were simple. Fans coated in silver and gold with black characters painted on them, lacquered chests, a red and purple sash—roughly the colors of the Kosetsu clan, the red for their cheek markings, and the purple for their crescent moons. Inutaisho accepted the gifts but made no remark on them and did not send any word back with the kitsune that he had been placated. But when he was with Izayoi later that same day he was mildly pleased that both his ex-wife and his son were trying to approach him. It showed their willingness to talk, to settle disagreements.

But it wasn't enough. Inutaisho sent out word throughout the Western Lands that he had disinherited Sesshomaru. The previous fall it had been too early for the word to spread far. Now it traveled like a fire through sun-scorched hills. Letters came from the Kosetsu where Sesshomaru and Shiroihana skulked.

Inutaisho showed Izayoi Shiroihana's letter. Izayoi blinked as she realized that it was written in Chinese characters. She looked up at Inutaisho perplexedly and when he motioned for her to read it, fixed her attention on it, pursing her lips with effort.

It was a frank letter, pleading that Inutaisho come to his senses and accept Sesshomaru as his heir. After Izayoi had finished it she sighed unhappily.

"You cannot deny that there is no wisdom in disinheriting Sesshomaru," she murmured. "He is your only son."

Inutaisho grunted. "Keh—but she is _lying._ It does not matter to her what I've done. She is too simple in this letter, too easy. She fears _nothing._"

"Maybe she knows you would call for Sesshomaru's death," Izayoi suggested and passed the letter back to him.

"Even that would not trouble her. She has every confidence that Sesshomaru would overcome any threat, and then kill me." He sighed with a bitter scowl. "It does not matter that I have disinherited Sesshomaru. If I died tomorrow he would still replace me. There is no other who could."

"You will never die," Izayoi whispered reverently and meant it. "And you could have other sons."

Inutaisho shook his head. "I may appear ageless, but I am too old for that." The sadness in his smile made Izayoi avert her eyes. She could think of nothing to say.

Along with the letters came news from messengers and kitsune that there was trouble in an area called the Musashi plain. It was surrounded by mountains and had once been a fertile place, not far from the sea or Nejiro castle. Now the word came that it was a gray place of ashes and death. A hostile, bizarre dragon with a humanlike face had begun prowling the area. It demolished the human villages in the spring first and then as the season progressed it burned the trees and ate the wild animals.

"Ryukotsusei," Inutaisho told Izayoi in the dark as he held her close, naming the dragon. "I will have to go out to the Musashi plains and slaughter him."

Izayoi had never heard of a dragon causing such destruction. In fact, she had never heard of a dragon doing such a thing at all. They were usually rumored to be harmless, beasts of the wilds that evaded humans in a way that most other youkai and other creatures did not. They were like the _kirin,_ beasts of mythology and good luck in most human tales.

Ryukotsusei was nothing like those legends. Inutaisho and Myoga both assured Izayoi that dragons were much like humans or inuyoukai, or like every living thing. They were individuals and even had their own cultures. Ryukotsusei had not begun in the Musashi plains. He was a newcomer, spawned and hatched somewhere in the mainland, in a distant place that raised aggressive dragons that liked to crush ash beneath their claws instead of fertile, green earth.

"If he moves on by midsummer I won't bother with him," Inutaisho said. "But if he has decided to stay there and live more permanently, I'll have to kill him."

Izayoi had never heard Inutaisho speak of a foe with apprehension before. "But he will be no match for you," she said, as if speaking what she _hoped_ was true would indeed make it so.

Inutaisho stroked her cheek and moved his clawed hand up and down the curves of her body. "Little Izayoi, you have entirely too much faith in me. I am mortal. One day I will grow weak and die, just as you will."

"But the dragon will not harm you," Izayoi insisted. "Surely you have killed one before."

Inutaisho sighed heavily, almost groaning. "A few times, yes. But dragons are a difficult foe. I am not so foolhardy that I relish such a challenge any longer. Without an acceptable heir I cannot be so reckless with my life."

Izayoi was silent, filled with unease and foreboding. She began to pray that the dragon would leave the Musashi plains.

There was only one positive thing about the dragon—Inutaisho had almost forgotten about his plans to call for Sesshomaru's death. The season gradually warmed and he only occasionally mentioned it.

* * *

The summertime came on slowly, as if it was holding its breath, watching the unfortunate drama unfold. Messengers came with increasing frequency relating awful tales of the dragon's ferocity, his carnage. It escalated through the entirety of the Musashi plains and soon reports came from the mountains surrounding the lowlands that the dragon was burning the mountain forests as well, devouring anything that he encountered.

Before midsummer it was clear that Ryukotsusei would not leave his newfound home.

"There is something peculiar about this dragon," Myoga told Izayoi while she walked through the gardens in the large courtyard surrounding the castle. Izayoi struggled to take pleasure in the scenery, but the summer's beauty seemed distant, like storm clouds gliding on the horizon.

"Lord Inutaisho hasn't said all that much about it recently," Izayoi confided and blinked at the tremble in her own voice.

Myoga, who was perched on her shoulder, hummed in affirmative. "He does not want to alarm you, my lady. But he must go and fight Ryukotsusei soon or he will appear weak to other youkai."

"Like Sesshomaru and Shiroihana?" Izayoi asked. She sat on the ground in the shade of a maple tree. Its leaves swished gently in the small breeze. The air was cool and crisp—hardly warm enough to make Izayoi think of midsummer.

"More than just those two," Myoga grumbled. "There are hundreds of youkai and humans who would like to carve out their own territory and secede from the Western Lands. Lord Inutaisho has had a constant struggle to keep these lands whole. He accomplishes that mainly with swift action and shows of great force. His delay with Ryukotsusei will be perceived as weakness."

Izayoi was silent. She picked at the grass and listened to the wind, but inwardly she was acutely aware of Myoga's presence, his nonexistent weight on her shoulder. She pursed her lips. "Why does he wait then?" _He cannot be afraid…_

Myoga chuckled warmly. "Master is concerned about you, my lady."

"Me?" Izayoi asked, gaping for a moment before Myoga's laughter made her snap her jaw closed. "I'm in no danger." Her face burned with a strange mixture of emotions.

"Ah, but you will always be in danger as his beloved." Myoga was using a flattering tone again, placating and embarrassing Izayoi. "And Lord Inutaisho is waiting for something…"

"For what?" Izayoi asked more sharply than she intended. She realized almost immediately that the flea was teasing her, taunting her with some sort of gossip, some information that she didn't know.

"I have said too much," Myoga told her. When Izayoi tried to probe him for more news the flea steadfastly ignored her. Izayoi soon gave up, filing away the matter for later, when she could question Inutaisho directly—but over the course of the day the thought slipped from her mind, as slick as an eel. By the time Inutaisho came to her bedchambers that night it was vanished and Izayoi reveled in his touches, kisses, and all of his body without any hesitation or care.

But the following week, during Izayoi's peak of fertility when normally Inutaisho purposefully withdrew from her, the answer came unbidden. It was a cloudy day; the air was wet and heavy, but cool enough to be chilly. Izayoi wore a thicker robe than usual to compensate for the chill and set about her day with the various tutors and Myoga as her company at first. By midday she was a little warmer and walked with Myoga clinging to her long, flowing hair into the inner gardens to visit the pavilion where she had learned spoken Chinese with Inutaisho. The lessons had not taken place there throughout the wintertime, but now Izayoi walked over the dampened stone and touched the decorative bushes and bonsai trees with a little gleeful smile as Myoga chattered.

When Myoga suddenly fell silent, Izayoi looked up, caught off guard. Inutaisho had entered the garden and was watching her silently with an expression of adoration. Izayoi bowed and greeted him fondly.

"Myoga, you may leave us," Inutaisho ordered.

The flea did not linger or hesitate. He leapt from Izayoi's shoulder and hopped out of sight. Inutaisho was silent for a time, scouring the damp grass in the direction that Myoga had gone. Finally he turned his eyes back on Izayoi and smiled widely, showing all of his predatory, sharp teeth. The expression both unnerved and aroused Izayoi.

"I have had a dream, Izayoi," Inutaisho began quiet and somber.

"A dream?" Izayoi asked, raising her eyebrows in uncertainty.

Inutaisho strode forward with abrupt speed, laying his large, powerful hands over Izayoi's shoulders. He stared down into her face and Izayoi realized he was exhilarated, delighted with something—seemingly, _her._

"I had a vision. Not just a dream." He stooped down while simultaneously pulling her upwards, closer to him to capture her lips with his own. When they parted Izayoi was already flushed and breathing harder. "A vision," Inutaisho continued in a lowered, more secretive tone.

"Of what?" Izayoi asked, searching his face from the glint of his white, pointed teeth to the fast and bright shine of his golden eyes.

The smile closed up slightly. "A child. A hanyou child. You were right—we won't resist. What happens between us will happen. What happens will be what is _meant_ to happen." As he explained one hand left her shoulder and moved slowly down her arm before sliding to rest on her abdomen.

Izayoi took a step back from him, retreating and shaking her head in confusion. "But you were so sure before—"

Inutaisho closed the distance between them once more, refusing to let Izayoi back away. "I have seen our child, our son. He will be magnificent."

Izayoi felt her body tensing, her muscles trying to shake with tension. She opened her mouth, ready to say, _He will be hanyou._ But nothing emerged. Inutaisho's joy was rapturous and Izayoi could not deny that she wanted children. Yet Inutaisho's warnings had not landed on deaf ears. As much as she loved the thought of carrying and raising a child fathered by Inutaisho—indeed she couldn't imagine being with anyone else—she had always valued Inutaisho's words as ultimate truth. If Inutaisho was concerned about a hanyou being an unstable beast then Izayoi believed in his fears and shared them although she had never seen a hanyou herself.

With Inutaisho heirless, having cast out Sesshomaru, Izayoi thought perhaps her lover had dreamt up an easy solution to his problems. If a hanyou child could be as powerful and great as Sesshomaru then there was no reason for his cruel-hearted pureblood son. Inutaisho could execute Sesshomaru without pausing to wonder if he had just condemned his own bloodline to extinction.

Izayoi was shrewd enough to doubt Inutaisho's _vision._

Inutaisho did not miss the doubt in her stance, her expression, her eyes. He sighed, his exuberance fading. He stroked her hair, parting the strands with four of his claws. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"Forgive me," Izayoi murmured sadly. "I have never believed much in my own dreams."

Inutaisho touched her chin, lifting it. "My kind has many abilities, many gifts. I have lived for centuries, seen the mainland. I have even talked with the dead. I would not approach you like this if I were not certain."

Izayoi closed her eyes, praying silently that there was no wishful thinking coloring his thoughts. When she spoke her eyes burned with melancholy tears. There should have been no doubt inside her, but Izayoi found herself sad as well as warm with joy.

During that week then Inutaisho stayed with Izayoi every night, and sometimes found her during the day and swept her away into a room, a study, or even once on a balcony overlooking the courtyard, the walls around Nejiro, and the mountains rising and falling beyond. It was only in the middle of this week that Izayoi realized that this was what Myoga had meant when he said Inutaisho was _waiting_ for something. He would not leave until after midsummer because he wanted to be sure he had not missed this chance to conceive a child with her.

And yet even after the week had passed, Inutaisho was in no hurry to part with Izayoi or the castle. Letters came from human lords, hastily scrawled and poorly worded, as if written under duress and panic. They were all close to the Musashi plains. The area of Ryukotsusei's destruction was growing by the day. Inutaisho could not afford to dally, but he seemed unwilling to acknowledge that and take on the responsibility.

Myoga described Inutaisho as being "stretched thin," and worried incessantly to Izayoi, but when she was with Inutaisho there was nothing but warmth, gentleness, and affection.

It was the seventh month—July—when Izayoi knew deep in her bones that she had conceived. It was different from the other times. Her bleeding was late a full week, but unlike the previous two times, now Izayoi felt heavy, as if her womb had filled with lead. When Inutaisho began smiling at her knowingly, Izayoi did not need him to confirm what she already knew. This time the new life inside her was sticky like rice, as rooted to Izayoi's body as her own teeth were.

Inutaisho hired new servants for Izayoi, specifically to tend to her while she endured the pregnancy, which began to sicken her almost immediately. She was constantly fatigued, her limbs and head feeling three times as heavy as they had been mere days ago. Her body rebelled, calling for food and water, and then tortuously making her feel nauseous until she actually vomited.

Though servants waited on her hand and foot and all tutoring stopped, Izayoi was almost too tired to rise out of bed to kiss Inutaisho when he came and embraced her one early morning. It was almost dreamlike when she opened her eyes and saw Inutaisho, bathed in the gold-yellow light of the early morning as it streamed into her window, leaning over her futon. He stroked her cheek and spoke to her, but Izayoi hardly managed to pick out the words through her exhaustion. Finally he helped her sit up and embraced her, then kissed her on the lips before slipping back out of the room, an angelic ghost.

It was only later, as Izayoi blinked and registered the fact that she was alone in the same morning light that she realized Inutaisho had been saying goodbye to her.

He had gone to faceoff with Ryukotsusei in battle, to at last save the Musashi plains.

* * *

Endnote: By the time some of you read this I could already be married! How scary is that? Just FYI for everyone: after I get married this weekend (Sept 4 2010) I will be gone for a week in Maui. Don't expect to hear from me all that soon!


	26. Helpless and Hopeless

A/N: I am reclining on my new-ish couch, in the apartment that me and my (new) husband share. The place is a mess, with things still unpacked and my desks still at my parent's house. To be brutally honest I have been slow about moving into the apartment here because I haven't wanted to leave my parents. Not that I don't want to be married to my husband, not that I don't want to live with him or live in this lovely apartment…but I dreaded leaving my parents and sisters, and still do—I miss them bitterly, especially at night when I'm trying to fall asleep and there are no more chores, school things, work things…just me and my secret, sad heart, wishing to be like Peter Pan, never growing up but knowing I already am. But I see my family frequently, so there's no reason for me to be so sad. We'll just call it adjusting. But as usual, when it's me and this keyboard, me and this screen, I can bare more of my soul. I can see it in these words too, these characters and their search for family, their desperate grip on it mirrors my own…

But none of us can hold on forever, right?

Disclaimer: I do not own them

* * *

Last Chapter: Izayoi got pregnant a couple times but miscarried before she even knew what was happening. Ryukotsusei the dragon wreaked havoc on the Musashi plains and Inutaisho ignored it for a long time, afraid to leave Izayoi. But by the end of the chapter, with Izayoi pregnant for a third time, this one planned, Inutaisho at last left for the Musashi Plains.

* * *

Proverbs 5:3-6  
"For the lips of an adulteress drip honey,  
and her speech is smoother than oil;  
but in the end she is bitter as gall,  
sharp as a double-edged sword.  
Her feet go down to death;  
her steps lead straight to the grave.  
She gives no thought to the way of life;  
her paths are crooked, but she knows it not.

* * *

Sesshomaru

(Letter to Inutaisho that was never sent)

Father,

This humble son requests your mercy and _compassion._ Please, extend your forgiveness, Honorable Father.

The human girl is unharmed and this Sesshomaru will never threaten her or even look at her again. There is no sense in continuing to hate one another over a human girl who will die centuries before Honorable Father and this Sesshomaru. This Sesshomaru apologizes for the stress Chichiue has endured on the part of Shiroihana.

This Sesshomaru wishes to offer information in confidence to Chihiue to prove his loyalty. The dragon Ryukotsusei is under Shiroihana's instruction. Chichiue is being summoned into a trap. Three days after Chichiue goes to exterminate Ryukotsusei, this Sesshomaru will arrive at Nejiro castle and abduct the human girl, according to Shiroihana's plans.

This Sesshomaru expects that Chichiue will not actually leave Nejiro, but will wait in the forests around it for this Sesshomaru to arrive. At that time this Sesshomaru will vow total and complete loyalty to Chichiue and will never see or speak to Shiroihana again.

* * *

**Helpless and Hopeless**

After the fallout between Sesshomaru and Inutaisho, the young heir of the Western Lands returned to the place of his birth, to the high mountaintop palace that had housed him for most of his life—under the calculating gaze of the most dreaded, enigmatic, ethereal female figure that Japan had known within the last half a dozen centuries. Shiroihana met him in the full regalia of a queen, though ostensibly she had given up that title and position a few years ago with the brief civil war—at the time of her divorce from Inutaisho. Now she welcomed her son and seemed already to know what had befallen him, though Sesshomaru could not fathom how.

After some explanation, slow and reluctant on Sesshomaru's part, Shiroihana seemed to stiffen, to hold her head and her chin higher. When she spoke it was breathy. "You see now the depths of his depravity, his madness?"

Sesshomaru gazed at his mother for a moment and then averted his eyes, staring at the matting for a time and then the walls. They were in the winter audience room and snowflakes, outlined in real silver, flew and danced around them, frozen in time. He felt Shiroihana's eyes, her stare, like the heat of an open flame. His own mind was dark and empty, like a cave, unseen beneath the surface of the earth, but this secret cavern was not cool and calm. Sesshomaru was afire, burning up from within, tortured as if by illness.

But he would not show it, could not. Especially not to Shiroihana.

"He has such a fine son, a fine heir in you, Sesshomaru. But he will not see it. He finds fault with you. Imaginary though it is, it has driven him to this point. Do you understand?" she asked.

Shiroihana was speaking simply, with an air of truth, but something in her tone also indicated that she was treating him like a ceramic bowl or a sprig of flowers, a fragile thing that she wanted to preserve. Vertigo passed through him, like bubbles tickling him as he rocked on a powerful ocean wave. _She knows I am distressed_, Sesshomaru realized. But she did not understand the full reason why.

Sesshomaru risked lifting his eyes to watch her, allowing sadness to touch his face, lightly convulsing the muscles around his eyes and mouth. Inutaisho had all the power here, he was the one in control. Sesshomaru felt in his gut the surety that Inutaisho would not sit idly by any longer. He would quash his own son and would unflinchingly kill Shiroihana too.

_We will both perish at the hands of his armies—or I will have to kill him myself. _Though he had often tried to imagine himself doing exactly that, Sesshomaru knew it was folly, foolish. The fight between them would be enormous, but tinged with pain. It would make them both slow to kill the other, and the first to strike a real blow would enrage the other. It would be a battle that killed them both. Even if one died and left the other clearly the victor Sesshomaru knew in his bones that the other would be so heavily wounded that he might never fully recover. Even inuyoukai could be crippled and not all wounds heal…

And with Inutaisho's last words on Sesshomaru's dead uncle, the source of all the trouble between his parents since before his own birth, the young inuyoukai saw his mother in a new, frightening light. She was still a queen by blood though not in name. She was exiled, she was quiet, but she was not beaten. Of course she had never wanted to have a son, only the daughter, the next queen to replace her on the throne of the Kosetsu.

_She would sit back and watch Chichiue and I battle,_ Sesshomaru realized. _She would watch us die and regret nothing. _When both combatants fell, dying and bleeding their last blood into the dust, Shiroihana would emerge the true victor. She was young enough she could marry again. She could have the daughters that Inutaisho had stolen from her.

_My uncle wanted me dead,_ Sesshomaru thought. It was only luck and Inutaisho that had saved him. Now he carried this deceased uncle's name like a banner, continuing a struggle against Inutaisho and had never given it a second thought. _I am her pawn, _Sesshomaru thought. _I am on the wrong side. _

He was still watching Shiroihana when she smiled at him, her face soft and maternal, seemingly full of love, but her golden eyes were hard as stone. She lifted her arms, motioning him to come closer. "Sesshomaru—you will always be my heir, my beloved son, the greatest creature within my life." She blinked and her eyes lost their hard edge. "It is good to see you. Don't despair. We will kill Inutaisho together. We are stronger together, as one unit. You will see."

Sesshomaru lowered his chin, staring at Shiroihana's knees. "Indeed." Doubt battled inside him, like waves on the ocean shore bashing against hard, unyielding stones. He knew how to change sides, how to win Inutaisho's favor once and for all.

He would have to turn his mother over to his father or worse still—kill her himself.

* * *

Winter came on and Sesshomaru spent much of his time alone, or carving out trails from the crusty, bitter snow banks on the mountainside. Shiroihana did not leave the warmth of the palace, instead she seemed to have every confidence that her son would come to her. And Sesshomaru did exactly that. Once a day or so he returned and sat with her in the audience room, or the tearoom.

Shiroihana spent months during the hard winter with nothing but small talk, but Sesshomaru knew that she was like a calm stretch of the ocean, hiding her inner depths, her secrets and plotting. Whatever she did while he wandered despondently, it was big and she would reveal it to him when the timing suited her.

And then Sesshomaru would have to betray her to save himself from Inutaisho, as cowardly as it was to think of the action in _those_ terms. He dreaded the end of the winter, or any time when Shiroihana's eyes took on a crafty, narrow cunning.

Eventually his luck did run out. The snow went through its first small melt, but then a cold front and a blizzard replaced anything that had been lost to the warm air. While the storm raged on outside, Sesshomaru sat with Shiroihana in the tearoom. She made small talk as usual at first, but then abruptly set her cup down so it clinked loudly and caught Sesshomaru's attention.

"Have you heard?" she asked, without any explanation at all. Sesshomaru sat back slightly on his cushion, waiting for her to go on. Shiroihana leaned closer to him, smiling slyly, and when she spoke her voice emerged without her lips moving hardly at all. "There is a dragon about, charring up the Western Lands."

Sesshomaru was not quick enough to conceal his surprise and alarm. Shiroihana's lips spread slowly in a smile, like a Venus flytrap closing over an insect. "He calls himself Ryukotsusei and he's very angry with your father—so I have heard."

_She has sent this dragon after Chichiue somehow. _He admired, despised, and feared his mother in that instant. She was so powerful and well-connected that she had the influence to send a dragon to do her dirty work. She was magnificent and dreadful—and poised like a snake about to strike. Sesshomaru knew that she could play him like a musician could pluck the strings of an instrument. Sesshomaru had to hide his true thoughts from her while also drawing more information from her.

He smothered his surprise, souring visibly for her. "Then I will have to kill this dragon."

"It's terrible bad luck," Shiroihana said with a mockingly high voice, deliberately and overly feminine. "You must sit back and let your father do it."

"The Western Lands are _my_ inheritance. I cannot sit idly by while—"

Shiroihana made a short, loud hissing sound. Sesshomaru cut himself off at once, watching her with open irritation. "This is a game, Sesshomaru," she murmured. "And now is not your turn. We must wait for Ryukotsusei and Inutaisho to make their moves before we make ours."

Sesshomaru allowed himself to scowl at her. "What are you planning, Mother?"

The sharp, calculating glint within his mother's golden eyes flashed briefly, like intense sunlight peeking in between wooden slats in a window. Then her gaze dulled and she withdrew from him slightly, shifting on her cushions and fidgeting with the white fur lining the top of her thick, regal kimono.

"Why would you think I had anything to do with this dragon?" She asked this as if perplexed, but it was an obvious contrivance. Neither of them believed her.

"You will not tell me," Sesshomaru muttered, stating the obvious. "You do not trust me." Two could play this game of manipulation. Sesshomaru was, after all, her son. They resembled one another so closely, it was inescapable. Whatever drove Shiroihana to be so crafty, so clever, so _deceptive_, it surely lied within Sesshomaru too.

Shiroihana scoffed at him. "You speak as if you had a choice!" She glared at him and Sesshomaru felt her words were a reprimand, a slap on the wrist. She could shrink him down, reshape him into a foolish pup just as Inutaisho could slash Sesshomaru to bits with a single swing of his mighty swords. Both of his parents were too powerful, too controlling, overwhelming—he felt a rush of bitterness, anger; hate.

When Sesshomaru was silent, Shiroihana went on with a gentler tone. "Your father would rather entertain himself with vermin and cast you and I both far away. He has always been beneath us. He has no dignity—_you _are better than him. You are better than _me._ This has always been your Fate. You will kill him. You will know it is the right thing to do when the moment comes."

It was excruciating to maintain eye contact with her, but Sesshomaru did it. As soon as she paused, Sesshomaru turned away, pinching his lips together when he knew Shiroihana would not be able to see it.

"When there is more to tell you, I will," Shiroihana admitted with a sigh.

Sesshomaru let his shoulders relax, but the release was more artificial than real. He left the room after giving his mother a last, bland glance. But underneath that mask of boredom, of blankness, Sesshomaru was a tempest, a teapot on the fire about to shatter.

* * *

As soon as the snows had melted enough that messengers could come and go more freely and with greater speed, Sesshomaru began constructing the letters to his father. He wrote them meticulously and at odd hours. Always he listened for his mother's presence, but she seemed almost to avoid him. Not once did she come upon him unexpectedly or even anywhere near the letters. Sesshomaru hid them inside his own robes, afraid that Shiroihana would find them or have a servant raid his rooms if he left them anywhere else.

But it hardly mattered. Every letter displesased him in some way. Sometimes Sesshomaru seemed to beg in his letters, others times there was revulsion a little too close to the surface. Once a plea for Shiroihana's life snuck into the letter and Sesshomaru found himself staring at the characters, baffled, as if someone else had slipped into his body like one tugs on a robe, and then that stranger had written the words instead.

He burned all the letters, writing only one at a time. The springtime was slow in arriving and late snows plagued the passes. Time was being patient as it waited for all of its hapless characters to finish up their little dramas. Meticulously, Sesshomaru kept seeking the perfect way to approach his father.

But before that could happen, Shiroihana told him that Inutaisho had disinherited him. At first Sesshomaru ignored her, accusing his mother of lying about it, but soon the news had spread everywhere, throughout the Western Lands and much of Japan in its entirety.

Though Sesshomaru had expected as much, the news was devastating. He did not show the humiliation, the pain, the depths of his betrayal, but they were undeniable. Others might not have known he was suffering, but Shiroihana did and she used it to her full advantage.

There was talk of war, of Inutaisho's troops preparing for battle and siege. Sesshomaru began to spend time in his mother's study, the same place where he had unrolled scrolls of genealogies filled with all of the ancient Queens, his ancestors. It was also where maps of the Japanese islands and the mainland were spread out and ready to be used for war.

One afternoon Shiroihana appeared, as silent as a wraith, ethereal and beautiful as a cloud. She sat on the opposite side of the table where Sesshomaru had laid out a map of the Western Lands. She was beautiful, alive, ageless. Sesshomaru did not look at her. He wanted to leave Shiroihana, to abandon the Kosetsu and the Kagetsu palace, to cease caring what happened to it, his mother, and even Inutaisho and the whole Western Lands. To be free like the wind.

But Sesshomaru had never been one to shirk responsibility or run from danger. He might retreat for a time, but not forever. And he would never really be free of _this._ His parents. His bloodline. His past.

His future.

He knew before Shiroihana spoke what she would say. His mind and body were quiet, heavy and inert. Her voice was like fall leaves dipping gently into a pool.

"There is no going back now, Sesshomaru. I must know that you will do what is right." She lowered her voice into a breathy whisper. _"This is what you were born for."_

Sesshomaru did not look up from the map of the Western Lands. He was staring at the Musashi plains. The area was green and lush, noted for farming communities, colonies of humanity sprouting from the wilderness like mushrooms from decaying logs. Now messengers said it was a burn-pile, a heap of chaos, blackened foliage, and rubble. The humans had all fled in terror—or they nourished Ryukotsusei from the inside out.

Shiroihana had chosen the Musashi plains specifically because they had once been a stronghold of Inutaisho's ancestral lands. Surely Inutaisho knew that this attack was no accident?

"He has ignored the dragon," Sesshomaru said calmly. "He knows you have laid down a trap for him."

"But how could I?" Shiroihana asked, feigning confusion. "Only the Great Inutaisho has the capacity to speak to other youkai and convince them to join in his cause!"

"Do not mock me," Sesshomaru told her without irritation. "I do not care how you have done it, but Father has seen through it. It is late in the season but he has not gone to deal with this dragon."

Shiroihana sobered, closing her eyes and brushing the fur about her shoulders. "He might suspect something, but he cannot ignore the dragon for long. Whether it was my doing or not—Ryukotsusei is like any other youkai. He wants to challenge Inutaisho. He wants to prove his own strength by killing your father."

Sesshomaru was silent for a moment, then he asked, "Will he succeed?"

Shiroihana's smile lost some of its confidence. "That depends on you. There will be a choice for you to make, Sesshomaru. When he goes to kill Ryukotsusei for the final time, you will intercept him." She chuckled then, smirking. "But may I advise that you only engage Inutaisho _after_ he has killed the dragon."

"What do you mean?" Sesshomaru asked. "For the final time? Father will not spend any longer than he needs to—"

"I'm sorry, I've gotten ahead of myself," Shiroihana said, almost purring with pleasure as she registered her son's interest and growing investment. "When word reaches us that Inutaisho has left to hunt down and kill Ryukotsusei—it will be soon now, no later than midsummer I would imagine—you will leave for Nejiro."

Sesshomaru narrowed his eyes, disliking the direction of her plot. "Why?"

Shiroihana lowered her chin, gloating. "We must take that little human bitch away from him. He must be punished and humiliated for the grief he has caused us—for what he has done to _you_ Sesshomaru."

"You want me to kill her?" Sesshomaru asked uncaringly. He did not try to ask himself how he felt about that, it was a moot point. In fact, he would take pleasure in slaughtering her simply for the carnage. It was only the knowledge of how his father would react that made him hesitant.

"No," Shiroihana replied quickly, shaking her head. Her hair jostled with the movement, rippling like sunlight reflecting on water. "Bring her to me, but be sure a swift messenger goes after Inutaisho and tells him what has happened. He will not be able to finish with Ryukotsusei. He will immediately come after her. But by the time he reaches us we will have hidden her away. He will never see her again." Shiroihana paused and grinned, showing her full set of white, sharp teeth.

"Why should we go through this charade with the fool girl?" Sesshomaru asked, not bothering to disguise his displeasure.

"It will give us immeasurable power over him," Shiroihana murmured. "It will be just as if we have taken his precious swords," Shiroihana spat out the last word but her eyes gleamed with sadistic enjoyment. Sesshomaru took it in without thought or feeling.

It was easier to be numb.

"Very well," he relented, lowering his head. "And later, when he goes for the dragon again, I will take his life."

Shiroihana beamed. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright. "It will be glorious, Sesshomaru. You will be remembered forever for this accomplishment. You will never come to regret it."

* * *

Izayoi

(Journal)

I dreamt tonight that I woke up in my bed and the light was red, like blood. I could see the moon through a crack in the screens. It was as red as the light around me, like blood. I was crying, but I don't know why. I turned over in the bed—it was very difficult, my body was so heavy; it fought me the entire time. And beside me I saw Takemaru and I knew I was married to him, I was his wife the way he always wanted. But he was a corpse, with green-gray skin and sightless eyes. All I could do was cry, and I was afraid. My chest hurt with all the tears.

I don't know what to think of this terrible dream. I am not even sure why I am writing it down.

I am a little better today. My strength is coming back. I didn't think it ever would. But I must go now. I'm hungry and thirsty. This little one inside is constantly hungry.

* * *

On the third day after Inutaisho had left for the Musashi plains, Izayoi woke feeling ravenous, as she always did, but also energetic. She often swung between exhaustion, illness, and an excited, busy energy. She ate with the monkey youkai that Inutaisho had hired to be her taste-tester. Monkeys made excellent scribes as well as taste-testers with humans at least because they enjoyed many of the same foods. The monkey woman had become something of a friend, though Izayoi knew from Myoga's cautioning that she should never confide in the pink-faced, gray-furred demon.

They ate a breakfast of fruits, sticky rice, and pickles. Izayoi avoided the pickles, finding them repulsive. The scent sickened her. She asked the monkey to eat them before they could ruin her appetite. Izayoi had gained a small amount of weight over the summer, but the monkey and Myoga, as well as physicians that Inutaisho had hired more recently with her in mind; all proscribed more food, rich and fattening. Izayoi tried to oblige, but the child often made her feel queasy. Many of her meals ended when they came back up.

This one stayed down, however. Izayoi had not dressed before eating this morning, as was her new habit since conceiving, so next she went with the monkey to the bathhouse. The monkey woman, named Bo, had the privilege of joining Izayoi during this time because Myoga of course was not allowed. They stayed in longer than they needed to, with Bo chattering about the tiles, the time she had swallowed seawater and gagged, or seen a dolphin while scavenging fish as a child along the beach. Izayoi had never seen the ocean and was content to hear Bo talk about it in her high, squeaking voice.

Before they had quite had their fill of the warm, sweet-smelling water, Myoga began shouting at them. When they turned to look at the sound, the little flea was leaping toward the water in great, frantic strides. He did not care that the two women were naked, or that he was breaking any courtesies.

"Lady Izayoi! Bo! Get out! Get dressed!"

"Myoga!" Izayoi said, covering her body with both arms reflexively and blushing though she had always suspected that the flea had spied on her many, many times before. She did not reprimand or waste time complaining, however. Myoga was urgent enough to barge in on them. Izayoi trusted his judgment and motioned for Bo—who could have cared less about the intrusion—to get out of the water.

Bo knew how to act properly in the moment, serving Izayoi well. Before the monkey bothered dressing herself, she pulled out the light blue bathrobe that would have been used on Izayoi after her bath anyway. Izayoi climbed out of the bath, still dripping and shivering at the comparative chill of the air, and slid her arms into the bathrobe. Bo hurriedly tied the sash at the front, keeping it closed.

Myoga was hopping behind them, calling for them to hurry.

"What's happened?" Izayoi asked over her shoulder as she tried to wring out her long, thick bundle of hair.

"A fox was spotted just outside Nejiro's walls—" Myoga began breathlessly, but Bo interrupted him.

"Foxes come and go here all the time," she muttered.

"If you would let me explain!" Myoga snapped uncharacteristically. "This fox is one of Lady Shiroihana's servants!"

"Shiroihana?" Izayoi asked, her voice small and peeping, weak like a baby bird's at the thought of the cold, hard demon woman. Though it was deep summer and the weather pleasantly warm, Izayoi felt bitterly cold.

"And the fox is with Lord Sesshomaru!" Myoga shrieked.

Bo let out a whooping noise that made Izayoi cringe, snapping her out of her momentary trance of terror. "Whadda we do?" Bo demanded, slurring in panic. "Whadda we do?"

Izayoi had never really believed that the mother and son team would actually mount some sort of assault on Inutaisho. Surely he was just too powerful for that. And yet their intentions were unbearably clear now. Izayoi hadn't wanted to realize the full danger she was in as Inutaisho's lover, his mate. It was no wonder that Inutaisho hadn't wanted to leave Nejiro castle. She closed her eyes, trying to think clearly through the mounting panic crowding her skull like a busy city street. Inutaisho had never really prepared her for this…

"I'm afraid there would be little point in fleeing or hiding within the castle," Myoga said. "Inuyoukai such as Sesshomaru have too keen of senses for that to work."

Bo hollered incoherently, her loud, raucous voice echoing from the enclosed space and this time Izayoi snapped at her, jabbing a finger toward the door of the bathhouse. "Get out!"

Unquestioningly, Bo fled. Alone with the flea, shivering in her bathrobe, still soaked and covered in residual soaps, Izayoi was lost. Her eyes burned and her chest hurt, tightening with terror. A fleeting thought passed through her: the broken pattern of the rest of her day; meals, reading, writing, dressing with the now silenced Etsuko…

Suddenly she sprang into action, rushing for the door. Myoga called after her, "Lady Izayoi! My lady, wait!"

Izayoi moved as fast as she could without breaking into a jog or running. She passed maids who averted their eyes or stared with open disapproval. Although Izayoi should not have noticed in her panic, she did. It seemed that she noticed them more than she would have on any normal day. The humans around her were full of reproach and disgust. The men, some small servants, or boys, pretended not to see her, or they watched with a dark, carnal curiosity.

Deep foreboding started to darken Izayoi's heart. It was as if she could already sense her future, though that should have been impossible. The little piece of Heaven on Earth that she had fought so hard for—Inutaisho's complete love and devotion, her own satisfaction, the child inside of her, every struggle that she had endured—suddenly struck her as fragile and short lived.

It was over now. Gone forever. She would never get it back. All that could be done now was to control the damage, to survive.

In the dressing room, Etsuko was absent. Izayoi was grateful. She went at once to the drawer where hair ornaments were kept and dug frantically through it. Myoga, miraculously, had managed to keep up with her. He landed on her shoulder, unnoticed until she spoke, panting to catch his breath.

"My lady…! What are you…doing?"

Izayoi pulled out a small, round and white furred rabbit's foot. It was the charm that Etsuko had arranged, seeing a priest who placed a protective spell on it. Izayoi had not tucked it into her clothes in a long time. It had never appeared to work when someone touched her—especially not Inutaisho—but now she prayed it would keep her safe.

She left the drawers standing open, ignoring Myoga's continued barrage of questions. Izayoi moved to the other end of the room where several boxes and dressers stood, filled with kimono and obis, folded and stored. A few were mounted on hangers with obis and under robes ready. Izayoi snatched one from a hanger—first the cream-white under robe and its simple sash, then the dark yellow outer robe with a simple pattern of pink and purple butterflies. The obi that had been set out for it by Etsuko was silver with swirls in gold to compliment the yellow. Izayoi took in its beauty as a slow sadness spread within her. She blinked tears out of her eyes as she pulled on the outer yellow kimono.

"Get a maid," she told Myoga, forgetting any attempt at politeness.

Myoga bowed on her shoulder. "Yes, my lady."

While Myoga was gone, Izayoi wrapped the obi several times around herself, fumbling slightly with her blurred vision. When the maid arrived, looking peevish because a flea had been the one to summon her, Izayoi's graveness and tears made the middle aged woman swift and sloppy. The obi was secure, but the bow it had been tied in was indelicate and ugly. It was also childish, inappropriate for Izayoi's age—amongst other things. But Izayoi didn't care. She tucked the rabbit's foot between the inner and outer robes.

"I will protect you in any way I can," Myoga promised her. "I have already sent out messengers to fetch Lord Inutaisho. He will return in only a matter of hours. The Musashi plains are not far away." He paused, perhaps unsure that Izayoi was listening. "There is still a chance that you could hide or escape…"

"I won't run from death," Izayoi whispered solemnly. She picked up a silvered mirror that had been taken down from the other side of the dressing room to be cleaned. Izayoi used her large sleeve to brush it off and then tilted it upward and downward, staring into it. Her kimono's embroidery and the patterns on the obi flashed through its surface, and then Izayoi's face. The glint of moisture was just visible.

Izayoi wiped at her face with her free hand.

"Sesshomaru won't pity you—and in your current condition he is even more likely to—"

Izayoi cut him off stiffly. "I know." She closed her eyes and thought of the pressure in her womb, the little life that would never get a chance to be. _Maybe this is better for you…_

"We—you must at least _try_ to escape, my lady!" Myoga pleaded, sounding more and more desperate.

Izayoi gently set the mirror back atop the dresser with its hanging and stored kimono. "If I am going to die today I won't shame myself or my clan by running. I will go and join them and be happy for it."

Myoga moaned with a mixture of fear and grief.

"I'm not a coward," Izayoi murmured aloud, more to herself than to Myoga. Her words were strong, but fear fluttered in her gut. It was nothing short of a miracle that she had not vomited all over herself and the lovely kimono. _I am the daughter of warriors. I will not disappoint them when I face danger and death._

She wished that a true plan had come to her, but she knew Sesshomaru would find her and if he meant to kill her it would be swift and honorable. He would not torture her or devour her. And after her soul had gone, it no longer mattered what happened to her body.

Inutaisho would remember her and make his son and Shiroihana pay for their actions.

A new, rash thought entered her mind and Izayoi acted on it without hesitation. She began walking, leaving the dressing room behind for the stairs.

"Where are we going?" Myoga demanded though Izayoi did not miss the hint of hope in his voice. He apparently thought she had decided to flee or hide after all.

"I'm going to wait for him in Lord Inutaisho's room."

Myoga made a sound of surprise but did not try to sway her from her decision. "When he comes, my lady, I will be silent and wait to see what he will do. If he takes you away, I will travel with you, hidden from him. I will guide you when I can and see to it one way or another that Lord Inutaisho finds you. But if he intends to kill you…"

"You can't really stop it," Izayoi finished for him blankly. She puffed as she reached the top of the stairs, leaning on the wall for a moment. Her shoulders heaved. Her body felt tired and weak. All of her strength, all of her blood, was passing into her abdomen where the child was growing. But stubbornly, Izayoi recovered and pressed onward.

She opened the door to Inutaisho's bedchambers and strode to the futon. It was empty, lacking any coverings. The room looked almost abandoned. Izayoi sat on the bed and sighed. Her body gave into nervous shaking and her breathing hitched, but she struggled to control it. She did not think of Sesshomaru, of what was inevitably about to happen. Instead she stared at the shuttered window, or at her feet, her hands, the hem of her kimono. She recalled the many nights she had laid beside Inutaisho, smelling his breath, his sweat, feeling his skin and immense strength beneath it. She sighed as she remembered the sensation of his hands on her body, the affectionate touches, massages, and caresses. She imagined the sound of his voice, speaking low in Chinese, flirting with her during lessons.

"_Dearest,_" she whispered using Chinese. _"I have no regrets."_

She did not know how much time passed, and had even lost all track of Myoga's presence because the flea had said nothing since she'd settled on the futon, but the shadows peeking between the slats of the window had not changed much when she heard the stairs creak. Then, rapidly, she heard the floor of the hallway shift and murmur under the press of another's weight. It was an incautious, hurried walk.

An eye blink later and a shape dressed in white appeared in the doorway. He was tall and ethereal, cold and blank. He stared at her from the doorway, unmoving for what felt to Izayoi like minutes, but was probably only seconds. Izayoi lifted her chin, a small motion of defiance, of impatience. _Do what you came here to do!_

She was fighting tears, shaking violently. Her hands were tight, clenched balls in her lap, desperate to act but unable to do so. She was sweating and the wetness left over from her bath in her uncombed, frizzy hair made her feel sticky.

Sesshomaru exhaled, a loud sound for him. His head tipped to one side though his expression was unchanged and gave away nothing. Then he rushed forward in a white blur and grabbed her by the throat. Izayoi let out one small cry of fear and anguish before Sesshomaru cut off her air supply, closing her throat—but as soon as he had grasped her, he released her. Izayoi fell back to the soft mattress, coughing and panting, clutching her throat. Tears flowed relentlessly then. Izayoi could no longer force them back.

She realized only slowly that Sesshomaru had not drawn back voluntarily. He was lingering a few feet from her, hunched over and holding his hand out, staring at it. This was the hand he had used to grab her, and it was bright red, burned. Taking the scene in, Izayoi felt a thrill of victory, of hope.

She did not realize she was smiling until Sesshomaru glanced back at her and suddenly sneered, showing his teeth in a vicious, but silent snarl. Izayoi had never seen this full of an expression before. It robbed her of breath and her courage failed.

Shouting hoarsely, Izayoi scrambled, trying to run to the window—any direction that could take her from Sesshomaru.

The inuyoukai was in front of her, blocking her path before she had taken two steps. Izayoi collided with him and screamed, instantly struggling, kicking and hitting. Sesshomaru reflexively snatched her wrists, only to hiss with pain and let her go, actually pushing her away.

Izayoi stumbled, tripping and falling onto the mattress again.

Sesshomaru let out a growl, short but sharp. "You," he said, addressing her. "Come with me or I will kill you."

Izayoi had backed up, into the opposite wall, but she did not run for the door. She knew she would never reach it before Sesshomaru. She was crying, snuffling, hyperventilating.

"Do not try my patience," Sesshomaru warned as the seconds ticked by and Izayoi made no moves and no response. He lifted his hand, which was red and inflamed from the burns touching her had inflicted on him. The fingertips glowed the sick, eerie green. It was the same spectral energy as Shiroihana's whip.

Izayoi felt sick and almost gagged. The old scars on her legs burned with pain-memories.

"I do not need to touch you to kill you," Sesshomaru assured her in a slow, deep voice.

"Then do it!" Izayoi yelled, croaking through her bruised and battered throat.

"My intent is to take you alive," Sesshomaru told her. His irritation was mounting. His golden eyes moved about quickly whenever he broke eye contact with her. He was nervous, tense—and in a hurry. There was not much time for him to spare.

"I'm not going anywhere," Izayoi muttered.

Sesshomaru struck without warning, unleashing the green whip. Izayoi shrieked and tried to duck, to throw herself for the door, but she was too slow. The whip closed around her hips and Izayoi tumbled, barely catching herself as she pitched forward. Her hands, wet with perspiration, streaked loudly on the floor. There was no pain, but the whip was already burning into the kimono. Izayoi smelled something acrid and harsh as the fabric split and burned. She choked and gagged as warring needs fought within her. She resisted the urge to try and pull on the whip, to free herself of it, knowing it would only burn or sever her fingers outright—but more than anything else, she wanted it _off._ Of all Sesshomaru's natural weapons, this one terrified her the most, and it was trying to strangulate her middle, where the baby was.

"Please!" she begged, the request barely discernible. "Let me go! I'll do whatever you want…!"

The pressure at her middle vanished but not soon enough that Izayoi recovered her stomach. She gagged, vomiting most of her breakfast onto the hardwood floorboards in front of her. Sesshomaru was silent until she had finished, then he said, "Get up."

Izayoi was quivering and weak but she obliged. She was shaky on her feet and used one hand on the wall to prop herself up; with the other she brushed over her kimono and her abdomen, as if to be certain she was still whole.

"Walk," Sesshomaru commanded. "We are leaving Nejiro. I will direct you. Go."

Without looking back at him, Izayoi started to walk. At first it was painful, both physically and emotionally. She cried silently, wiping at her face and fighting to keep her breathing calm. Once they were outside of the castle, passing through the spacious courtyard with its decorative trees, the sunshine and fresh air worked their usual magic on Izayoi. She felt rejuvenated and gradually wrapped herself in a self-comforting bubble. It gave her strength and disconnected her from the tenuous future that awaited her.

In some ways she wished that Sesshomaru had killed her. At least there were no surprises in death, and all suffering would cease at least until her soul was reborn for another try at the quest for enlightenment. Now, though it was pleasant and relieving to be alive, Izayoi could not begin to guess at what fate had in store.

She knew one thing, however, as the sun climbed higher overhead and Sesshomaru directed her through the wilds…

They were heading for the Kosetsu, for the Kagetsu palace. For Shiroihana.

* * *

Endnote: Sorry this took so long to get out. On top of adjusting to my new home and new husband, and being a wife and all that, as well as a new job and new responsibilities around the house...On TOP of all that I also had a nasty computer virus hit me a week or two ago. I was looking for pictures to inspire me to write...and wham! Vista started crapping on me, things were freaking out...my antivirus was popping up over and over again without really fixing the problem, and I could not save my files or transfer them to a backup hard drive. It was BAD. So my new husband, who has a clue or two about computers, had me take out the battery and then unplug it. You see, if you restart your computer, many viruses will only imbed themselves deeper. So he wanted to shut it down cold, without letting it prepare itself or alert the virus. We did that and then booted in safe mode. But safe mode is slow, the graphics suck, and you can't use a lot of stuff (like sound doesn't work right.) But I saved my files from safe mode, finished homework and whatnot, then last weekend we reformatted the hard drive and upgraded to Windows Seven. I've only just recently gotten some of my documents back up and going since then (still no music).

Should anyone encounter a nasty virus (or malware which can be just as bad) like I did, I recommend MBAM (Malware-Bytes Anti-Malware) it's fast, and VERY effective. I have seen it completely get rid of an infestation in a previous computer. On this one we didn;t risk checking. We wanted to control the damage from safe mode and then reformat, which is a surefire way to just eliminate anything bad. But just to prove MBAM's worthwhile-ness, in a previous infection I scanned with Spybot and uncovered 4-6 entries of trojan malware. Then I installed MBAM. One 3-minute scan there came up with 27 entries. And it cleaned them spotless. If MBAM were a person, I would have to French kiss them passionately to prove my undying love. But fortunately, my husband plays the role of MBAM most of the time.

I had trouble naming this chapter...I chose what I did here thinking of both Sess and Izayoi. They are both helpless and have no hope of escaping what's going to happen. And if you think about it, even IT is. The real power here is Shiroihana. Without her, this story could not have happened (in my version anyway).

Oh, and btw...the wedding went GREAT, it was very beautiful, nothing major bad went wrong. And then we went to Hawaii, also AWESOME. But until next time...


	27. Izayoi and Sesshomaru: Choice

A/N: This chapter was fairly intense! But school and life-stuff have constantly tried to pull my time from writing. Ugh.

Disclaimer: I do not own them.

Last Chapter: Sess was trapped by Shiroihana and Inutaisho's wrath. Stuck in their plots. He fell in line with his mother's plans and abducted Izayoi. Myoga was with Izayoi when she was abducted.

* * *

**In a Garden ****by Elizabeth Jennings**

Even the beech tree from next door which shares  
Its shadow with me, seemed a kind of threat.  
Everything was too neat, and someone cares

In the wrong way. I need not have stood long  
Mocked by the smell of a mown lawn, and yet  
I did. Sickness for Eden was so strong.

Strength is born in the deep silence of long-suffering hearts; not amid joy.** –Arthur Helps**

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* * *

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Izayoi

(Journal Entries for Inuyasha)

My son,

Every day I cannot believe how much you look like your father. I seem him in the way you smile at me, at your excitement and curiosity. You are only a toddler, but I can see his compassion in you as well. Today, after the midday meal, you brought me three baby birds that you found peeping in the decorative bushes. You were so proud of finding them, so happy. They were unharmed, but I could not stop myself from feeling sad, and my little darling, you noticed. I told you that you should not have raided the nest, those were only baby birds and their mother would be worried for them. You were so sad and ashamed; it makes me cry to think of your expression even now. You put the baby birds back into their nest, but the mother abandoned them, as I already knew she would. I hid the babies as they died from neglect. I could not bear to have you see them dead. I know you would know that you had taken part in their deaths.

It is a travesty, a misdeed with no likeness, that you cannot know your father. He was not human, but he was more human than many of the men and women I have known in castles and cities since then. I know he loves you and would have loved us both unconditionally.

Your father gave us both life, Inuyasha. He kept me alive, and he gave me you. There were so many times I came so close to losing you. I have cried many times when I know you are sleeping because I miss your father so, but I am always thankful that I have you. You have given me strength. It is you that I live for now.

For you, I would do it all again. I will always choose you, my little darling.

* * *

**Izayoi and Sesshomaru: Choice**

Sesshomaru pushed Izayoi onward at a relentless pace. They trekked in the late afternoon through pine forests and bamboo, then darkness descended while they moved through a deep valley. As the sky darkened, Izayoi's abdomen began to cramp. It was mostly fatigue, but the pregnancy was also bothering her. She had experienced cramping before with fear, but the physician that Inutaisho had hired, an old female wolf youkai, had reassured Izayoi that it was her reproductive organs expanding.

The child was growing.

Long after nightfall, Sesshomaru kept Izayoi walking. Exhaustion dragged on her limbs and shoulders. Izayoi slowed down, her head slumping, her mind as empty and dead as a corpse's.

"Faster," Sesshomaru ordered from behind as they started to climb a long, steep slope. The going was slippery, covered with pine needles. The needles formed a shifting carpet beneath Izayoi's feet, and at last one step faltered and she yelped, going down.

Sesshomaru lunged, catching her.

The awkward couple stood still on the hill, one stiff as he held his weak, helpless cargo, the other breathing heavily with effort, her skin glazed with sweat. It was only very slowly that Izayoi realized the significance of what was happening: Sesshomaru was holding her and the charm had not burned his hands.

It was too dark for Izayoi to make out Sesshomaru's face, but his skin and hair were fair, bright even under the thick canopy of trees that left them shadowed even from the moon. She knew through her haze that this was not Inutaisho, but he resembled the great Lord of the West, and bitterness brought Izayoi out of her stupor. Emotion curdled inside her, the knowledge that she would probably die in one way or another by either Sesshomaru or Shiroihana's hands.

She began to sob, crying.

Sesshomaru was silent as he set her on her feet. He waited while she cried. It was the closest that this cold, stoic dog demon could come to being kind. But when Izayoi sank down into a sitting position, hugging herself and rocking as she sobbed, Sesshomaru's patience and semi-kindness wore off.

"Get up," he told her quietly. "You must walk."

"Please," Izayoi cried, looking up at him though she could not see him with any clarity at all. "Just let me sleep."

"There is no time," Sesshomaru muttered.

"I'm not as strong as you," Izayoi said, trying to reason with him. "I can't walk for days on end!" She felt her face twisting with desperation and fear. She was trying to postpone the inevitable. She was not as weak as she wanted him to believe—but she wanted to keep her strength for the baby. She did not know if Sesshomaru knew of her condition, but Inutaisho had known by scent. Surely Sesshomaru was no different. But whatever the dog demon knew he did not enlighten her.

Sesshomaru hesitated, then moved slowly, cautiously toward her. Izayoi tensed but did not resist as he knelt and scooped her up into his arms. It was tentative on both parts. Sesshomaru was not used to gentleness, and it was clear he expected there to be pain from the charm, but there was none. Apparently Sesshomaru did not harbor enough ill-will in that moment to receive the charm's wrath.

They set out again, faster now. Izayoi let herself lean into Sesshomaru, closing her eyes. She tried to pretend this was Inutaisho, but that thought only made her sob again, loudly. Sesshomaru went onward without seeming to notice as her cries echoed off the undersides of the trees, as the cold stars and the moon went on shining heedlessly.

_Dearest, I am so sorry. I love you. I will love only you, forever. Please forgive me._

At some point Izayoi drifted off. There were no dreams, only blackness and nothingness. When she woke it was to an unusually deep, slow voice that she had dreaded hearing for years. _Shiroihana._

"Why Sesshomaru—how kind of you to carry that little blight! Careful, her stupidity and weakness may be contagious."

Izayoi snapped awake, lifting her head. Her heart took off, pounding and rushing in her ears. The forest had cleared around them. Izayoi recognized where they were. It was the long stairway leading up into the gray and white mists surrounding Kagetsu palace. The palace itself was invisible through the mists. The sunlight hinted that the time was somewhere in midmorning. Sesshomaru had walked all the way through the night and into the next day while Izayoi dozed and slept.

Instinct made Izayoi grip Sesshomaru's haori, holding tightly as if he were Inutaisho and would protect her. Shiroihana was standing on a stair some twenty feet away. Her lips were curled in a false smile, her golden eyes narrowed with the same dislike that Izayoi had often seen Sesshomaru wear. She looked smug and secure, triumphant in her blue-gray kimono with its white fur at her shoulders.

"Mother," Sesshomaru said, "there must be no delay."

"Yes, yes," Shiroihana said dismissively. She barely bothered looking at her son; her attention was focused on Izayoi. "He will be doubly angry now, it seems."

"What will you do?" Sesshomaru asked. He shifted and released Izayoi's legs, forcing her to stand. Izayoi locked her lips together, refusing to make a sign of her fear. Her legs were rubbery as they accepted her weight again. Muscles were cramped from the unusual position they had been in for so long. Her mind was sharp with adrenaline. Though Sesshomaru and Shiroihana were speaking in obscure riddles, she guessed what they were talking about: her pregnancy.

Shiroihana shrugged her shoulders, adjusting the white fur. She looked self-satisfied, like a cat that has caught a mouse. She did not answer Sesshomaru, instead she aimed her words at Izayoi. "Well, little girl, you've gotten yourself into quite an interesting position, haven't you? Come here…"

Sesshomaru's hands were over Izayoi's shoulders, lightly holding her in place. They tightened now and he said, "She is under some sort of protection, Mother. Unless you handle her with…" He faltered, apparently unable to describe _care_ or _compassion._

"Is that so?" Shiroihana asked. She looked excited, thrilled at the prospect of a challenge. She closed the distance between herself and Sesshomaru swiftly and snatched Izayoi's hand. At the same moment, Sesshomaru withdrew, stepping backward to let his mother take over.

Izayoi tried to turn and call out to Sesshomaru for help—though she knew that was pointless. She could not overcome the unconscious similarity between father and son. _Somewhere_ inside himself, Sesshomaru _did_ know compassion. He had to as Inutaisho's son.

Shiroihana hissed and let go of Izayoi's hand. As the demon woman turned her hand over, examining the palm, Izayoi stumbled back, trying to retreat to Sesshomaru. Shiroihana shook her hand, as if she could flick away the burn she had received. "It looks as though she likes you, Sesshomaru!" she teased.

"Do not touch me," Sesshomaru ordered Izayoi, stiffening as she drew closer.

"She is so stupid that she cannot tell you and Inutaisho apart!" Shiroihana said, laughing derisively. Her smile became dark and predatory. "Perhaps you should enjoy her as Inutaisho clearly has."

"Ridiculous," Sesshomaru snapped, clearly disgusted. He reached out and took Izayoi by the elbow, dragging her toward Shiroihana. Izayoi began to cry and shout incoherently, pleading with him to release her. When Sesshomaru finally did, they were within five feet of Shiroihana and Izayoi did not miss the red streaks where Sesshomaru had been burned again.

"This is your plot," Sesshomaru said to his mother, frowning slightly. "_You_ deal with her. Father will be here in a matter of hours."

Izayoi bared her teeth, gritting them as Shiroihana came closer, staring her down. Shiroihana leaned close and spoke under her breath. "Do you think he loves you, stupid girl? Do you think he loves anyone but himself and his swords? He _uses_ you, he _used_ me, he _uses_ his own son—but no longer."

Izayoi was breathing hard, her shoulders heaving. In spite of herself, tears had come, rolling down her face like rain from heavy clouds. She worked her lips, trying to find the moisture to spit into Shiroihana's face, to defy the demon woman, perhaps goad her into killing Izayoi…

"Take out whatever spell you're wearing," Shiroihana ordered without emotion. "Or I will disrobe you myself and find it that way—and I will enjoy humiliating you, girl."

Izayoi found the spittle she needed. It was thick and reluctant, a sign of her dehydration. The child within her was like a sponge, soaking up every extra bit of water she had. Izayoi spat at Shiroihana's face, but the thick gob of spittle did not get the distance it needed to reach its target. Instead it smacked Shiroihana's decorating yellow obi.

That was more than enough.

Shiroihana slapped Izayoi with such force that the young mortal fell over, barely managing to catch herself. Her palms caught the hardness of the stairs. Grit and dust cut into her delicate flesh.

"Little disgusting bitch!" Shiroihana snarled. "You will regret that!"

Izayoi's mind was spinning; her cheek was both numb and burning. She was lightheaded. Her eyes were pinched tightly shut with pain. Her black hair, unrestrained and uncombed, was wild around her shoulders and her face.

Something impacted her, knocking Izayoi flat. It stung faintly and Izayoi cried out with shock. It came again, this time slashing over her shoulders. Then another time over the thick obi at her waist. Slowly, through the flashes of movement and eerie, greenish light, Izayoi realized that Shiroihana was using her whip, cutting Izayoi's clothing.

"Mother," Sesshomaru said, raising his voice slightly in an effort to catch her attention. "You mustn't harm her."

The whip came again and again until the faint stinging began to hurt more and Izayoi realized Shiroihana had almost cut all the way through her clothing. At last, the air was silent, the whip gone.

"Get up," Shiroihana growled.

Izayoi was too stunned to obey. She was shaking. She barely heard Shiroihana speak, let alone took in the words.

"Get up!" Shiroihana yelled.

This time Izayoi heard and obeyed. She pushed herself upright slowly. Her body ached from the blunted blows of the whip. Her palms were moist with blood from the scraping wounds she had received in her fall. Her neck and face burned and stung from Shiroihana's slap. When she stood on her feet and lifted her head Izayoi almost didn't notice that her kimono was shredded and loose, falling off in tatters. There were welts on her skin, beneath the cuts in the fabric. The obi slipped and the outer kimono felt open.

The white rabbit's foot clattered to the ground with it. The inner kimono was loose as well and tried to follow the outer robe but dazedly, Izayoi clutched at it, keeping it on her.

Shiroihana strode forward deliberately. Her expression was cold. She kicked the rabbit's foot away with a small movement, but the power behind it was enough that the charm went flying off and out of sight, into the mists. Then the demon woman snatched Izayoi's hands where they kept the inner kimono closed and tugged ruthlessly.

Izayoi made a small sound of alarm but she could not resist Shiroihana's hold without breaking her arm. The inner kimono slipped off her shoulders and pooled at her elbows and hips. Shiroihana let go of Izayoi and lifted both hands for Sesshomaru to see. They were unburned, unharmed.

"As simple as that," she said smugly. "Sesshomaru—see to it that she follows me into the palace. I've decided what to do with her."

Shiroihana turned and began to walk upwards, over the long staircase, into the whiteness of the mists. Izayoi stood where she was, trying to pull the torn remains of her under robe over her nakedness, her intense vulnerability. Sesshomaru made a sound behind her, a crunch on the stone of the stairs with one foot. It was deliberate, an attempt to convince her to move without his having to touch her or speak to her.

Slowly, Izayoi obeyed, lifting one leg after the other to climb the steps back to the palace where she had known nothing but suffering. Now she returned to it for another round. She had survived before, through sheer force of will and bravery—Izayoi's unending endurance—but now she felt weaker, frightened, softened by her brief time of love and comfort with Inutaisho. And there was the child to think of, unborn, unformed, but strong as she was and eager for life.

She cried silently as she climbed, though no tears emerged any longer. She had run out of moisture.

In the winter scene of the white audience room, Sesshomaru ordered her to sit and wait. Izayoi sat in the center of the room and bowed her head, then lied down entirely. Sesshomaru stayed in the audience room with her, guarding her. Time passed unobserved by Izayoi. She dozed away as her mind tried to escape the world around her.

Then a door slid open, clattering loudly. Izayoi sat upright, stiff with alarm. She breathed rapidly, watching as a monkey entered with a tray that was set up for tea. The brew smelled strongly of herbs. The monkey turned three teacups over and filled all of them. The tray was directly in front of the raised platform where Shiroihana would sit, just out of reach. The scent made Izayoi want to gag, but she was so thirsty and hungry that she would have drank it if it had been served to her in the tearoom at Nejiro.

As the monkey finished, Shiroihana entered and approached where Izayoi was sitting. The demon woman stood over the small, defenseless human—her ex-husband's lover—and tossed her a brown-gray robe. It was simple and inelegant, with a black sash to secure it. There was only one robe, not the usual under and outer robe that Izayoi was accustomed to. Yet it was clothing and Izayoi snatched it immediately and put it on over her tattered under robe.

It was the first kind thing that Shiroihana had done for her in years. In spite of Shiroihana's inherent cruelness, Izayoi bowed slightly and said, "Thank you."

Shiroihana scoffed, a hard and bitter sound. A moment later she walked to the raised platform and sat on it. Something had outwardly changed in Shiroihana's face. Izayoi examined the demon woman unabashedly, fearlessly. Shiroihana had shed the previous mood and donned a new one. Her face was somber, unsmiling. Izayoi was not sure whether this was a good or bad development.

"Sesshomaru," Shiroihana called to her son where he was standing soundlessly in the back of the room, beside the doorway that led outside into the mists.

"Mother?"

"Tell this girl what will happen to her as soon as she leaves here."

Izayoi closed her eyes as she listened to Sesshomaru's answer. "The humans of the Takeyabu province expect her to arrive at any time. Takemaru intends to marry her at once."

Izayoi had to swallow forcefully to keep herself from gagging. She opened her eyes and looked to Shiroihana, who was staring off unseeingly at the white walls. "Please—please Shi—Lady Shiroihana, _Queen Shiroihana._ Please don't do this. Please—make me your slave. Keep me as a servant." She choked and clawed at her own throat in frustration, trying to keep it open and functioning properly. _"Please! I beg you!"_

Shiroihana blinked, coming out of whatever reverie she had been in. She threw Izayoi a bland glare and scoffed. "You are lucky I did not kill you earlier, girl! You should be _thanking_ me."

"I despise him—T—Takemaru. _Please._ I'm—I'm with child. Takemaru is cruel, I c—can't—"

Shiroihana laughed loudly, cutting Izayoi's pleas off completely. "Did you truly believe I didn't _know_ that already, little fool? Did you think I would change my plans simply because you could not keep my brutish husband from rutting you like the whore you are?"

"_Ex-husband,_" Izayoi muttered under her breath. But it was not so quiet that Shiroihana failed to hear it.

"There is no such thing. Before _you_ I planned to reconnect with him," Shiroihana said, jutting out her chin. "But like the filth he is, he took you instead and cast me off, ending the marriage."

"You don't love him!" Izayoi yelled. "You want him dead!"

"And you are lucky I do not want _you_ dead as well," Shiroihana muttered, smirking. She did not try to deny Izayoi's charges. In the back of the room, Izayoi heard Sesshomaru shift, making the matting and floorboards creak slightly.

"Enough of this nonsense," Shiroihana said, moving on. "Because I am not heartless, I have decided to give you a choice, Izayoi."

It was the first time that Shiroihana had used Izayoi's name. Already Izayoi felt sick and tense with anxiety at it. This was not a good development, she decided.

Shiroihana leaned forward and dropped her voice as she went on. "I _owe_ you, Izayoi. Some time ago, you took my unborn child from me. You spied on me, gave me away, and after I did nothing to you but treat you kindly, but educate you and spoil you."

Izayoi's face burned with outrage at such blatant lies. It was true, in a twisted way, Izayoi had caused Shiroihana's loss, but Sesshomaru had been the one to actually inflict the punishment. Shiroihana had brought it all on herself. Now Izayoi felt queasy and weak. Almost unconsciously she laid her hands over her flat navel, remembering the joy she had shared with Inutaisho, and how pleased he was with this conception.

"I lost my lover, and my child, because of you. Now the tables have turned, but I will give you a choice that I did not receive," Shiroihana said. She had a regal bearing, as if this was a noble act, an honor that she extended to Izayoi. An honor that Izayoi did not deserve.

For Izayoi it was a twisted joke. She clenched her jaw and controlled her breathing, in and out, slow and steady. This was all part of Shiroihana's grand scheme of control and vengeance. Izayoi could only sit back and brace herself, praying that she would survive it.

"First I will educate you, Izayoi," Shiroihana murmured, continuing her stuffy, magnanimous air that made Izayoi want to spit on the demon woman again. "You are only recently pregnant and I have been told—please correct me if I am in error—that human women have a gestation similar to one such as myself." Shiroihana laid a pale, slender hand over her chest, then fell into her usual habit of stroking the fur draped around her shoulders.

In the heavy, thick silence that followed, Izayoi realized Shiroihana expected her to answer. She cleared her throat and said, "I don't know." It was the truth. She knew nothing about _gestation_ and _pregnancy, _only that it would take some time for her baby to ripen.

Shiroihana sighed with exaggerated patience. "I am sure it takes 3/4ths of a year to complete. You have many months left and you will not show your condition for at least another month or two. That is plenty of time for you to claim the child is Takemaru's."

"I would _never_ do such a thing!" Izayoi said, almost stammering in her hurry to protest this suggestion. "I am not the liar that you are!"

Shiroihana chuckled mirthlessly and absently curled a strand of her long, silky white hair around her fingers. "Does this mean you would choose the second option?"

"Second option?" Izayoi parroted in confusion.

"Yes, you did not let me finish," Shiroihana muttered with irritation. "To be short: You can choose the abomination you are carrying, or you can choose Inutaisho."

"What?" Izayoi gawked, shuddering as she began to grasp what Shiroihana suggested.

"Mother," Sesshomaru spoke up, making his presence known for the first time in long minutes. "This was not part of the original plan…"

"I am allowed to change it as I see fit," Shiroihana said, smirking. She redirected her attention to Izayoi and the dark smile only grew larger. "Do you understand, girl? The teacups in front of you will make you bleed. Drink them and you will be ill—there will be no child—but you can return to Inutaisho."

She paused for a moment, softening and becoming thoughtful. "I suppose though that it is possible your frail, mortal body would not recover from the shock and blood loss. It would be possible that you would never conceive again as a result. These herbs are _very_ potent…"

Izayoi swallowed and bit her tongue to keep herself from moaning. She looked at the tea and felt her guts ripple ominously. Was this really a choice? Izayoi took in Shiroihana's smugness, her amusement, and saw trickery. She saw a trap.

"The tea would kill me, wouldn't it?" she asked bitterly.

"There is always the chance of that. The herb would not do it, but as I understand it, human women die in reproduction frequently." Shiroihana sighed with mocking sadness. "I know it is a very hard choice, Izayoi. But of course, I lost _both_. There was never any choice for me. I know you think I am cruel, but there _is_ a choice here. If you truly cannot live with that twit you are betrothed to, well, drink the tea. You will sacrifice the child, but I will not send you to Takemaru. As soon as Inutaisho has agreed to abdicate and make Sesshomaru Lord of the Western Lands, I will hand you over to Inutaisho."

Izayoi made a choking sound, a hiccup of her grief. "Tell me about the other choice."

Shiroihana shifted, becoming more animated. "You will go to Takemaru. Your child will be spared from an early death with the herbs—but Inutaisho will not come for you."

"Takemaru would kill me—he will say I have shamed him!" Izayoi shrieked, shaking her head frantically.

"You have two ways out of that," Shiroihana muttered with mounting impatience. "You are early enough that you can marry that idiot of yours and claim the child is his. He cannot smell the way we can. He will never know."

"But my baby is _hanyou,_" Izayoi pressed insistently.

Shiroihana rolled her eyes. "It will be born mortal like you. It will probably look like you, too."

"Mother," Sesshomaru interrupted from behind Izayoi.

"What is it?" she snapped.

"Most hanyou cannot pass as humans."

Shiroihana clicked her tongue in irritation and shook her head. "But some appear human with little or no difference. It is impossible to tell how _this_ pathetic little atrocity will look or act just yet. She would be better off _pretending_ so that she might live as a normal human after marrying that fool boy."

"And if it is obviously _hanyou?"_ Sesshomaru asked. There was a surprising amount of stiffness in Sesshomaru's question.

"Then you will make sure that they know the child must be protected as the leverage it is—against Inutaisho." This answer was rattled off absently, a little too fast. Shiroihana was eager to be finished with the scene at hand and it was easily clear to Izayoi. She was lucid and quick, rapidly thinking and planning, trying to preserve herself and her child from Shiroihana's hidden traps.

But no matter what she chose, Izayoi sensed despair looming. She had passed into the hands of enemies, and Takemaru would be no better. The herbs were almost certainly meant to kill her so that she would not live to be passed back into Inutaisho's loving arms. And Shiroihana was right—if she lied to Takemaru and claimed the child was his, she _could_ get away with it. But if she went to Takemaru to be married and the secret was laid out in front of him from the beginning…

Takemaru and his clan would never stand for it. They would not honor the request that Izayoi be used as a pawn, preserved along with her child for use against Inutaisho.

The safest route was also the most despicable. She would have to marry Takemaru, seduce him, and claim that the pregnancy was his. The thought made her feel ill on multiple levels. She wrapped her arms around her body and bent forward, moaning and crying tearlessly.

"You've made your decision, then?" Shiroihana asked, correctly identifying the cause of Izayoi's display of despair.

"Take me to—to Takemaru…" Izayoi sobbed.

"And what should we tell him about you?" Shiroihana asked, almost purring with satisfaction. Izayoi knew without meeting the demon woman's eye that she had made the decision that Shiroihana had expected and wanted.

"I will lie," Izayoi blubbered, almost incoherently. She covered her face with her hands and rocked back and forth.

"Very well then—that is what I would have chosen as well." Shiroihana rose to her feet then and walked to stand over Izayoi. Something dropped to the floor with a clunking sound. Izayoi lifted her head slightly and saw a small, round, iridescent black stone. "You must take this with you in your clothes or I will order your death. I have spies already around the meeting place where Takemaru has been waiting all summer for your arrival. If you drop it, they will know. They have orders to kill you if that should happen."

"What is it?" Izayoi asked without truly caring. She had not reached for the small stone.

"It creates a scent barrier and if you do not wear it on your body at all times you will die." Shiroihana knelt down with a slow, deliberate motion and grabbed Izayoi's chin and face in one hard, clawed hand. "Is that perfectly clear, girl? Your life depends on your obedience to myself and Sesshomaru. Are you competent enough to do as you're told?"

Izayoi's face ached, deep inside where her bones had been rattled from Shiroihana's blow outside. She cringed and whimpered to her shame. "Yes!"

"Good," Shiroihana grunted, releasing her and standing upright again.

Izayoi reached out and grabbed the stone, clutching it in her hand.

"Sesshomaru," Shiroihana said, raising her voice authoritatively. "Take her out of here as fast as you can. Don't stop until you find that little idiot Takemaru."

"Yes, Mother."

* * *

Shiroihana

How could I have been responsible for the death of the first Lord of the Western Lands? Surely you dismissed me as untruthful or exaggerating when I first set it down here. I am a mere woman, even though I am inuyoukai.

But I have always been a Queen as well.

My part in his death has always been hidden to the outside world. It is something only truly shared between myself and my husband. It was our final dance, our last battle, and I emerged the victor. Though to the outside world it appeared that Inutaisho had succumbed to the dragon Ryukotsusei, I know the truth.

Sesshomaru also knew what happened, but he makes no comment of it. I did what I did because I knew my husband was too powerful. I could not afford to gamble and lose. I made sure that the outcome would be in my favor.

The stakes were never higher for me, and for Sesshomaru. If I miscalculated, Inutaisho could kill my son. And, though it pains me greatly to say it, I suspected that Sesshomaru would pause in the final moment. He refused to accept that Inutaisho's death was the only solution, the only choice.

I know that my own son would have betrayed me had he been given the opportunity. I had no evidence, no physical means to prove this accusation, but Sesshomaru's heart was no longer with me. He did not want to be at my side.

I have read that reincarnated souls gradually forget their former life and carve out a new one, with new rules and loyalties and beliefs. This is what Sesshomaru had done, and what he continues to do in the present day. In his former life he never would have parted with me, never have betrayed me, but in his new life he cannot escape me quickly enough, and there is no end to the amount of pain he inflicts on my lonely, long-suffering heart.

But a Queen does not let such weakness distract her. In spite of the uncertainties, I was ruthless. I brought Inutaisho to his knees and killed him long before he fought Ryukotsusei.

And I would gladly do it all again. Though Sesshomaru does not know it, he has been avenged.

* * *

Sesshomaru arrived back in Kagetsu palace just before nightfall. He reported blankly that he had traded Izayoi off to Takemaru's band of warriors without incidence—except that he had nearly killed a flea demon that had stowed away on Izayoi. No doubt a servant of Inutaisho's. As far as Takemaru was concerned, Sesshomaru and Shiroihana had rescued Izayoi from a bewitchment by Inutaisho. The girl would be a little brainwashed but otherwise she would be the fine bride Takemaru expected.

Inutaisho would not notice them on his warpath—a journey that would lead him straight to the Kosetsu and Kagetsu palace. Shiroihana reassured Sesshomaru of this while they talked. It was not hard to see how her young heir fidgeted, even if the motions and looks he gave were minimal. Shiroihana knew him too well to miss every subtlety, every sign of his impatience and uncertainty.

There was a slight chance of catastrophic failure for Shiroihana here. Sesshomaru had the potential to turn on her as soon as Inutaisho arrived. He could prostrate himself to Inutaisho, plead forgiveness, and then announce that he would join his father's cause in seeing the deposed matriarch—his own mother—dead. He could also levy his knowledge of where Izayoi was, baiting his father into sparing him.

But Shiroihana knew she had dug a pit of insecurity inside Sesshomaru's psyche. He was like any other animal—inuyoukai and humans were only animals for all of their traditions, beliefs, honor, duties, families, and all the other garbage they used to puff themselves up—he wanted to survive. And survival with Inutaisho was unlikely. Shiroihana had convinced him that Inutaisho would kill him, that there was no hope.

His only choice was to stand with his mother, united.

She decided to drive the point further home. "When he arrives you must be on your guard, Sesshomaru. He will be deaf to reason, enraged beyond all logic. We must _force_ him to think."

"And how does Mother intend to do that?" Sesshomaru asked. His tone, though he meant it to give nothing away, revealed all too clearly that he thought she had miscalculated.

"We have already begun it," Shiroihana assured him, patting the white fluff around her shoulders. "The girl is alive. He will know that and it will make him more cautious, yet also easy to manipulate."

Sesshomaru was silent. His expression said he still held his doubts.

It was not much later that both Shiroihana and Sesshomaru sensed Inutaisho's aura, his approaching presence. The doors to the winter audience room stood open, readily admitting the enraged ruler. He was massive, almost physically bristling. He had donned his own white fur as well as his armor. The white pelt trailed in an upside-down V from the back of his shoulders, as if he were trying to give the impression of two-tails, like some kitsune. His eyes were narrowed into tiny, furious slits. The color in them, veiled by his eyelids, was both golden and red.

At his sides his clawed hands were open, ready to kill.

"Where is Izayoi?" he bellowed at them both while still in the doorway.

Sesshomaru rose to his feet, turning sideways so that he was able to simultaneously see both parents. It was a position that reflected his indecision, his entrapment between Shiroihana and Inutaisho. Shiroihana read it with a ripple of repressed terror. _No, you cannot abandon me…_

She acted with only her own preservation in mind, pinning Inutaisho's anger on his son, to forever wipe away any chance that Sesshomaru had to switch sides. "Sesshomaru took her from Nejiro and hid her away."

Inutaisho's gaze at once flew to his son. His lips parted in a vicious snarl. His teeth were entirely too big for his mouth, as if they would fly out and snap out Sesshomaru's throat of their own accord.

Sesshomaru's stance stiffened, he lifted his head. He did not acknowledge Shiroihana's words and did not deny them.

After half a second of further thought, Shiroihana laughed with a purposefully mocking tone. "Of course it was I who told him to do it."

Inutaisho ignored Shiroihana. He kept his eyes focused on Sesshomaru. "Tell me where she is."

Had he picked Sesshomaru out as the weakest link against him? Shiroihana was on her feet a moment later, trying to reclaim her ex-husband's attention. "You will never see that little brat again!"

"You bitch!" Inutaisho said, more howling than speaking. "Despicable, treacherous…"

"I have done nothing wrong!" Shiroihana said. Though she had not shouted her voice had the power to silence Inutaisho's bristling and blustering. Her eyes narrowed. "I have merely corrected an abomination."

"What do you mean?" Inutaisho raged, stepping forward three steps, stiff-legged and aggressive.

Shiroihana did not flinch. She smiled. "Your carnal relationship with that poor, wretched girl."

Inutaisho growled, baring his teeth, but overall his reaction was less venomous than moments before. It was unspoken between the three of them that Inutaisho had reacted with such ferocity because of Izayoi's pregnancy. Shiroihana's dubious language _corrected an abomination_ suggested the hanyou child, not the simple relationship. It was purposeful, stringing him out and then giving him slack. Though the situation had not changed—Izayoi was out of his hands, out of his protection, and with her the hanyou abomination she carried—Shiroihana's tactic had worked. Inutaisho was cooling, thinking, contemplating. Now she decided to poison his mind, cloud his heart…

Shiroihana's face changed, slackening around the eyes and brow, but tightening around her lips in a decent imitation of a pout. "How could you insult me and Sesshomaru this way?" she demanded, taking on the persona of an angry mother and wife—minus the _ex_ part. "Do you realized how humiliating it was for us both to hear of your exploits with that ratty little mortal? Have you no dignity for yourself—or us? We are your family!"

"_You_ are nothing to me!" Inutaisho roared at her.

Shiroihana was on her feet, stiff as a rod, flushed with real outrage. "You chose the little brat over me! I came to you to reconcile our marriage, to apologize for my misdeeds!"

For a moment the audience room was silent, just as the falling snow on the walls would have been in reality. What Shiroihana had said was true to a certain extent. After she had nearly killed Izayoi with her whip, leaving the girl scarred for life, Sesshomaru had asked that she make peace with Inutaisho. He has also sworn allegiance to Shiroihana, and _that_ was what Shiroihana truly valued. In the spring or summer of the year after she had attacked Izayoi, Shiroihana had gone to Nejiro to reanimate their marriage, to try again.

But she had walked into a careful, bitter rejection. By that time Inutaisho had already learned that she had been in an adulterous affair with Koshoshiro, that Sesshomaru had hidden it from him. This insult to his pride could never be forgiven, even if there had been genuine hurt in his eyes when he announced the annulment to their marriage, and banished her to the Kosetsu, relegating her to a secondary, distant ruler. No longer a Queen who rivaled him for power even in name. She had been a prisoner inside Kagetsu ever since. And as much as Inutaisho had hated her for disgracing their marriage and hiding it from him—as well as all the years of scorn before the betrayal—Shiroihana despised Inutaisho in return for thwarting her efforts to return to him as Sesshomaru had wanted.

Inutaisho glared at her, completely forgetting about their son's ongoing presence in the room. "You chose for me a long, long time ago. The girl has a beautiful heart and a strong soul. You can't compare to her."

Shiroihana blinked, flinching as if Inutaisho had struck her. In all her life she had _never_ been told she was anything but beautiful, stunning, enviable by all other females of all races and creeds. Now Inutaisho had the _gall…_

"You sicken me," Shiroihana spat.

Inutaisho, seeing that he had hurt her, pressed on with a gleeful bitterness. "You live inside a beautiful, empty shell. But inside you're as lovable and valuable as a lump of horse shit. And you have tainted my son."

Sesshomaru made a small noise, an inhalation that Inutaisho ignored or failed to notice. But Shiroihana did and her eyes flew to her son, her child—and saw raw pain. She looked back to Inutaisho and bared her teeth. "You've lost your mind. May you soon lose your head as well."

"Are you finished?" Inutaisho asked, unimpressed. His hands made fists at his sides, as if he could barely resist the desire to strike her.

"Not at all," Shiroihana said, lifting her chin stubbornly. "You will never find the girl. She is back among her kind but I have given her a charm that will hide her scent from all youkai, including you. My spies watch her and you. Should you leave Nejiro for any reason my spies have orders to kill the girl. And if she tries to escape, my spies will kill her then too. Her life is in your hands, Inutaisho. Obey me and no harm will come to her. We will even protect the little atrocity growing in her womb."

Inutaisho shook his head furiously, rippling his long, white ponytail. "You despicable heartless little bitch…"

Shiroihana moved forward, taking three steps closer to her ex-husband. "I want you to know how it feels to be helpless and alone, trapped inside your own castle, powerless…"

The expression on Inutaisho's face, while warped with anger, softened slightly with resignation and pain. "You have already made me miserable for years, Shiroihana," he muttered bitterly. "I allowed you to live when I should have killed you…"

"Oh but for your compassion and mercy," Shiroihana mocked. "I am ever so grateful. Yet now the tables have turned. Would you rather that I ask you to end your life in exchange for the girl's freedom? Would that be more compassionate of me?"

Inutaisho shifted slightly. He was standing no more than eight feet from Shiroihana…

Too late Shiroihana realized that she was within a lunging reach of his claws, and she could sense him tensing. Time slowed—there was a blur of motion, a scuffle of sound, a grunt of effort, hard breathing.

Shiroihana stepped back, almost stumbling over the platform where she normally conducted her audiences while sitting in the place of honor. When she registered what had happened in front of her—first with nose, then with her eyes and mind—she let out a cry of alarm.

Inutaisho had lunged, slashing at Shiroihana, but Sesshomaru had darted between them, halfway blocking the blow and halfway taking it himself. Now he stood quivering slightly, bracing himself with one arm. Blood dribbled onto the tatami mats below.

In a flash, Shiroihana saw two scenes from the past, her brother stepping between herself and Inutaisho while she had been pregnant, then the final time she had seen her brother, stabbed by her father, blood splattering and trailing down his clothing to pool on the floor. There was not as much blood here, Inutaisho's strike had been parried and diverted, but it was similar enough that both Shiroihana and Inutaisho stood back, stunned out of their wits by the symmetry of past and present.

"Sesshomaru," Inutaisho said, but his eyes were narrowed and Shiroihana knew he spoke to both his brother-in-law and his son with the same name.

Shiroihana was shaking, thrilled and terrified all at once. Her eyes started burning, overwhelmed with the sight of Sesshomaru's strong back, his long white hair—and the brightness of his blood with its rich scent, so full of her own essence. The maternal need to embrace Sesshomaru swept over her, frantic, intense, and thick with pride.

But it would have to wait.

"Will you kill me, Chichiue?" Sesshomaru asked in a cold deadpan. "Your own son?"

Inutaisho stepped back, almost stumbling. He glanced at his claws, visibly taking in the blood. His nostrils flared. He grimaced, as if Sesshomaru had struck him instead. He did not answer his son and flicked the blood off his claws onto the floor with no sign of remorse.

"Are you satisfied, Shiroihana?" Inutaisho demanded. Then, slowly, stiffly, he knelt and lowered his head in a sloppy bow. "I yield on the condition that no harm comes to Izayoi—or to my son."

Shiroihana laughed, a little nervous and strained as she moved to stand beside Sesshomaru rather than behind him. "Of course no harm will come to that little human girl if you continue to behave properly—but as for Sesshomaru, _you_ are the only one who has ever harmed him. With all your foolish talk of his imaginary faults…"

"You mistake me," Inutaisho interrupted her. "I did not mean Sesshomaru." He narrowed his eyes on Shiroihana and then deliberately changed his gaze, laying it on Sesshomaru with deep meaning. "I charge you both with the duty to protect and look after my son—Izayoi's son."

"Nonsense," Shiroihana muttered.

Inutaisho ignored Shiroihana. His attention was still on Sesshomaru, who had not yet given an answer. "He will be no threat to you," Inutaisho insisted, almost pleading with his firstborn. "He will be harmless, an innocent that you will long outlive. He will also be your younger brother." He glanced once, briefly at Shiroihana and his face twisted with bitterness. "You will never have another who shares my blood with you."

"But I am tainted," Sesshomaru said, for the first time hinting at his own pain, his hurt. He spoke through teeth gritted with multiple kinds of pain. "I will only taint your new son."

Inutaisho's mouth twisted, he closed his eyes, losing hope.

Shiroihana called for the scribes. A monkey entered with a parchment, a brush and ink, and a hard surface for writing on. It settled near the door, tense and ready. While Inutaisho sat still as stone, resigned and sour, Shiroihana rattled off official changes for him to release from Nejiro. Sesshomaru would be reinstated as his heir, unchallenged by any that would come forward with any claim to the bloodline, older or younger. The document decreed that Sesshomaru was to become a sort of coregent, a ruler sharing power with his father.

After the words had been scrawled and Inutaisho had signed them—scowling and baring his teeth as he did so—Shiroihana ordered him to leave with Daken, her longtime inuyoukai servant and messenger. Daken would accompany Inutaisho as an obvious escort and spy, but there would also be smaller, stealthier fox demons who would never reveal themselves openly. If Daken were killed by Inutaisho before he could relay a message, the other spies were sure to realize something was wrong swiftly and send word back to Shiroihana—and then to the kitsune guarding Izayoi.

If Inutaisho was smart he would not cause trouble. The game of control and manipulation would linger on, much to Shiroihana's pleasure.

Before he left, Inutaisho paused and turned to ask, "What about the dragon in the Musashi plains? I _must_ leave Nejiro to kill him."

Shiroihana smiled, closed-lipped and cold. "No, you will not."

Inutaisho growled. "You mean I am to sit in my castle and listen idly as reports come in that the dragon is destroying the Western Lands?"

Shiroihana petted the white pelt at her shoulders, smirking darkly with triumph. "That's right. You are no longer a responsive ruler. We will see how long the Western Lands praise you while you sit by and do nothing for them."

"You _must_ let me slay it!" Inutaisho shouted, frantic.

Shiroihana's smile did not fade. "In due time, Inutaisho, you will."

* * *

Endnote: The complexities in this story are insane, but it's a lot of fun. From this point on you all basically know how it will go (I mean, really, you knew all along...) but I promise I have twists and turns to add. How will Inutaisho find Izayoi again? Will he not see her until Inuyasha's birth? Or will he find her before then but lose her again? You know at this point there's like 8 months left before Inutaisho dies and goes to Dog-Heaven...

And then there is our most lovable and tormented Sesshy-boy. I think we all know of every relationship in this story, the one between father and son is truly the most dynamic. It's all over the map. So, what will it be like when Inutaisho dies?


	28. Izayoi: The Secret Wife

A/N: This chapter was anxious and wanted to escape so badly. I wrote it, loved it, and now am offering it up to all of you. it is possibly disturbing? Well, disturbing for the fact that it is not the ideal, sweet solution we all would want for Izayoi...But it was the one that made A TON of sense to me when watching Inuyasha the 3rd movie. I even checked it out: When Takemaru comes to see her in the birthing area, Izayoi doesn't (at least not in the english version) really use any formal greeting, indicating that she knows him very well, well enough to drop some titles and junk. Yes, I know I should have listened to the Japenese with subs at the bottom for the most accurate check, but the english dub actress has such a nice voice, strong and memorable, while the Japanese lady who voiced Izayoi originally sounded like nails on a chalkboard comparatively. Weak and fragile and demure...bullshit. This was a TOUGH lady. She gave birth after being SPEARED for crying out loud. So I can't stand listening to the stupid, weak Japanese voice actress. Anyway, that's my spiel. Unfair, I know, but I'm pretty sure in the subbed version she also lacks formality.

Disclaimer: I do not own them.

Last Chapter: Shiroihana and Sess were cruel to Izayoi. Shiroihana forced Izayoi to choose between keeping her baby but going to Takemaru, or losing it and returning to Inutaisho. Of course Izayoi sensed a trick to the latter choice, guessing that Shiroihana would kill her rather than return her. So she chose what she knew Shiroihana wanted her to pick. They gave her a charm to hide her scent from Inutaisho. When Inutaisho showed up Izayoi was already gone. They left him without any choice but to sit back helplessly. IT made the mistakeof antagonizing Sess and then asking him to look after his unborn son by Izayoi. Sess refused.

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First love, the love that clings to your heart forever, no matter how much pain it has caused, no matter how many tears have fallen, first love will never leave my soul.** –By Unknown**

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Izayoi

(Journal Entries for Inuyasha)

My son,

Today we were visited by a ghost of the past. My past and yours, though you were not yet born when he saved our lives. For as much as I am grateful to him, I wish that you and he had not met for many more years. I cannot tell how he will act as you get older, but I pray that he will always tolerate you, that he will never seek to harm you—but my heart says he will not stay our ally.

There were many times when he would have killed me, and I was even more insignificant to him than you are now. I think it pains him to see you, to hear your voice. He sees your father in you, just as I do. I know it hurts him—maybe even more than me. I have you to hold, he has no one. I pity him, but if he knew that he would kill me for the insult.

Let me record for you here how this demon man saved our lives—this is why you must never seek his death, but remember that more than once he held our lives in his hands and chose to allow us to live. This is why you must honor him as your Older Brother as well as the Lord of the Western Lands…

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**Izayoi: The Secret Wife**

The journey down the mountainside was grueling. Izayoi walked with Sesshomaru at her back, shaking with physical and emotional weakness, but there were no longer any tears as she cried. She considered repeatedly how easy it would be to ask Sesshomaru to kill her, or how she might try to run from him and incite his wrath, also bringing about her death.

But Izayoi was not one for such a coward's death. Though her weakness made her toy seriously with this idea, she could not do it. Her mouth was dry, it would be difficult to speak anyway. Her blood was thick, sluggish—her strength was with the child, heavy inside her womb.

They had walked for close to an hour, downhill from Kagetsu palace, when suddenly Sesshomaru said, "Stop."

Izayoi obeyed, sagging with her own weight and leaning against a pine tree. "I'm so thirsty…" she said. "Please…"

"Who is there?" Sesshomaru asked in his calm, cold deadpan. Izayoi recognized the hidden threat in it, but his question made her scowl.

"We're alone…" She gestured hopelessly at the trees, sighing above in the canopy, at the ferns forming a raised carpet over the leaf litter below.

Sesshomaru took a step forward, his boots crunching on the ground. He closed the distance between himself and Izayoi quickly and grabbed her by the shoulder. Izayoi let out a startled cry and fought, but it was feeble with delirium and fatigue. Sesshomaru clawed her hair back from her neck and in a brief instant Izayoi found his touch both terrifying and erotic. Inutaisho had often moved her hair from her neck to kiss her or nibble her.

But this was not Inutaisho.

Terror gave her strength. She screamed and tried to run, but Sesshomaru's hold on her was ironclad, immovable as the mountain behind them.

"Please!" Izayoi shrieked. "Don't do this…!"

Sesshomaru ignored her. He tugged at her collar, then down to the tattered under robe below. He swatted at her shoulders methodically, making Izayoi gasp and grip the pine tree again in desperation. She suspected for the first time—with a jolt of relief—that Sesshomaru wasn't actually trying to harm her. He was _looking_ for…

A voice cried out, small and whiny. "Please spare me, Lord Sesshomaru! Please! I meant no—"

It was Myoga. Sesshomaru had encountered his aura before, and now must have recognized it again.

Izayoi twisted her neck around to stare at Sesshomaru. The young inuyoukai held the insect youkai pressed tightly between forefinger and thumb. It was too firm for the little flea to escape from, though he squirmed and wiggled. The flea had stopped speaking when Sesshomaru compressed him and did not let up.

He was going to squash Myoga, to kill him. Sesshomaru's clawed fingertips glowed green until small flecks of greasy moisture appeared, welling seemingly out of nowhere. He rolled his finger and thumb with the flea still between them so that both claws could press into Myoga, exposing him to the poison. Myoga let out a sickly screech and Izayoi shouted incoherently, lashing out to end the violence, the awful sound of her friend—even though he was a parasite—dying.

She struck Sesshomaru's wrist with her fists, managing to startle the inuyoukai enough that Myoga slipped out of his grip. The little flea's body fell like a pebble downwards, beneath the ferns. Sesshomaru turned an irritated glare at Izayoi. "Walk," he ordered.

Izayoi swallowed, but her throat was as dry as deserts she had read about on the mainland. She trudged onward, distracted from her own suffering for a short time as she considered Myoga and wondered if the flea could have survived.

* * *

Several hours of walking brought Izayoi and Sesshomaru to an open meadow. It was around the opposite side of Kagetsu, heading out of the mountains and onto a smoother plain. The meadow was the site of a shrine. A rose up, made of wood and painted red. Thick, braided ropes hung from it. Izayoi recognized the signs of human religion, the marks of a holy Shinto site, honoring one god or goddess or mountain spirit—but she hardly cared. She had been raised away from the traditions of her ancestors, separated from it by leaps and bounds.

The shrine itself was not a large building. There was a bell and a place for offerings. It was what was beyond it that made Izayoi feel sick. Wood smoke from human campfires rose up into the air, gray and black, with a thick stink. Izayoi used sheer force of will not to vomit at it. Tents had been erected about the opposite edge of the meadow. Guards had assembled, already noticing Sesshomaru's approach.

It was late evening and long, golden sunshine arched through the trees, casting distorted, twisted shadows. It was surreal, unbelievable, and inevitable. Izayoi shivered as if with fever, she slowed but did not stop as she took in the warriors and guards in their jagged, vicious armor, their angry, distrustful faces coupled with the glint of curiosity inside their dark eyes.

As she and Sesshomaru drew nearer, Izayoi imagined she could see red in the humans' eyes, as if their outsides were only shells, like eggs, and at any moment they would split open and hatch out as impish, hungry demons…

She was lucid enough to laugh internally at her own perverse thoughts, to realize how backward she was to the rest of humanity. They saw youkai as demons, while she saw _them_ as demons. It was truly absurd and laughable. Izayoi almost did laugh, but when Sesshomaru's hand nudged her back, urging her along, she wiped the amusement clean.

A new man broke through the line of stern guards. His armor clanked. It was red and lustrous, shining in the golden light of the sunshine. Izayoi recognized Takemaru quickly, in spite of the armor and unfamiliar surroundings. He had the same cold countenance, as stern as the guards, but with less fierce anger. Instead he was tainted with suspicion. He eyed Sesshomaru warily and Izayoi felt her old disgust for him return. _He has not changed at all._

Takemaru's eyes flew briefly to Izayoi, taking in her disheveled hair, the mismatched robe too thin to be proper, and her clearly half-mad mental state. His expression soured. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"This Sesshomaru has brought her," Sesshomaru said uncaringly, not bothering to answer Takemaru's question. He gave Izayoi a push, probably not one that he meant to be harmful, but Izayoi stumbled at it, falling at Takemaru with a small cry.

The warriors called in alarm. Several drew their swords, setting the air full of the sound of metallic ringing. Archers, behind the swordsmen, nocked their arrows in their bows and took aim.

Takemaru caught Izayoi and held her upright. He shouted at Sesshomaru in outrage. "How dare you bring her to me like this?"

Sesshomaru was already turning his back to leave. "You are lucky—human—that she is alive for you at all."

"Shall we shoot him?" one of the guards asked with bravado, clearly hoping that Takemaru would say _yes. _

"No," Takemaru said, dismissing the other man. He turned at the waist and called for the women while Izayoi continued to cower and shiver against him. Izayoi barely registered his words. Her mind was racing; spinning so fast that she could not think clearly, could not concentrate. Takemaru's armor was not metal as Inutaisho's was. Her fingers moved over the tightly woven material, designed to stop the blow of an arrow and dull the bite of a katana sword.

Takemaru pulled her back from him, holding her firmly by the shoulders. He gave her a little shake, pulling her attention up to his face. She searched over it and felt cold and numb inside. This handsome man, just about her age and chosen for her many years ago, was to become her husband. She had to seduce him to save herself and her baby.

She craned her neck, looking back across the meadow at Sesshomaru—but he was far away now, a speck of white against the gloom of the pine forest. She wanted to run after him and fall to her knees begging until he either killed her or gave in.

But she was no fool. It was too late for that and even if she had tried it, Sesshomaru only would have taken her back to Takemaru.

"Look at me," Takemaru ordered, shaking her again. Izayoi obeyed, blinking to focus in the difficult light. Takemaru's eyes searched over her, skipping over her face, her messy hair, her smeared and filthy face. He frowned. "What in the seven hells has happened to you?"

Izayoi, too sharp to have survived this long, knew what was required now. She would have to act, to lie, to cry and endear herself to this man she despised. Only he could save her and her baby. But her knees buckled at the thought, even as her lips parted and she fumbled for words. All that came out was his name in a strangled cry, "Oh, Takemaru!"

She tried to cling to him, tried to embrace him, as if she could absorb some of his strength—he certainly looked well-fed and as steady and solid as a wooden pillar—but Takemaru was not of an affectionate nature. He supported her gently but also kept her at bay. The women arrived, a mixture of ladies and servants. They gasped and whispered at the sight of Izayoi, already gossiping and wondering at her. Takemaru passed Izayoi into the arms of an older woman, instructing her to clean Izayoi up and clothe her properly.

"Be ready," he warned the women. "We leave in half an hour. We must travel through some of the night to escape this place."

The women carried Izayoi off to a small bathhouse that had been constructed as part of the shrine, a place for travelers to rest. It was poorly maintained and aged many years. The stairs leading inside creaked loudly, the inside smelled sour and bitter with mold and soggy boards. It was dark inside until the old woman walking with a firm grip on Izayoi's arm left and struck a flint to light a small brazier in one dingy corner. The tub was simple: a large wooden basin.

It had been years since Izayoi had bathed in anything so poorly made or decorated—or barbaric. She had bathed in luxury for years, always with hot water and soaps. Now she watched dazedly as servant women walked in and out rapidly with chilly stream water, pouring it into the basin. There was no soap at all, only a rag for scrubbing.

When the basin was half full, the old woman ordered most of the servants out and shut the door. She approached Izayoi and for the first time made eye contact with her and spoke to her. "Izayoi—my name is Setsuna Sumi. I am Lord Takemaru's aunt." She extended her hands, gnarled from years of life as a wife, dutifully serving her husband and male kin. Izayoi watched mutely as those hands went to her waist and began to untie the simple knot there.

"I apologize for the abruptness of all this," Sumi said, "but we must get you washed up and your hair combed out. I've sent the others to find a suitable kimono for you."

Sumi tugged the outer kimono off and with it the under robe, which was in bits and pieces, tattered by Shiroihana's whip. Sumi stared at it, her eyes widening to the point that her wrinkles stretched out. Izayoi had fumbled, catching the under robe to keep it from falling to the ground. Unlike the simple outer garment, the inner one was made of a heavy, expensive and decorative silk. Even in the low light it was possible to see its value.

The other woman in the small bathhouse interior was a maid, dressed in simpler, cheaper clothes than Sumi. This woman gawked, her mouth hanging open stupidly.

"I was attacked," Izayoi told them, stammering.

"By the Dog General?" the younger woman asked, gasping. Her eyes were alight with interest.

Sumi scowled, crinkling her face even more. "Whose robe were you wearing? _He _didn't make them for you, did he?"

Izayoi looked between the two women, dumbstruck. She wanted to smack the younger one and cry for her lost lover, her vanished joy. With Sumi she saw a real threat, a shrewd female spy for Takemaru who would puzzle out Izayoi's secrets and serve them to Takemaru the same way that she would sticky rice.

In the end Izayoi covered her face with her hands and her shoulders shook, quivering. It was a stalling tactic as well as a real reaction, and both women offered comfort in words, reassuring her that she was safe—among family now, back with her own kind.

Then the bath began. Izayoi endured it silently, staring straight ahead. She did not blush; she did not register the grimy, rough surface of the wooden basin. She shivered and shook at the coldness of the water and her abdomen cramped. She crossed her legs in discomfort and gritted her teeth, praying to _anyone _that her body would not miscarry the child.

The younger woman came and went, taking Izayoi's old clothes out with her and then re-entering with a new set. The new one was thick and heavy, already designed for the fall weather in spite of the lingering summer warmth outside. It was simple, purple for the under robe and pink for the outer one. Butterflies in white adorned a blue-silver obi. It was childish, virginal. Izayoi wore it against numb skin.

Outside the bathhouse the women had laid out a blanket on the grass. They sat Izayoi on it and two younger maids, mere girls, brushed out her hair with ivory and porcelain combs. They complimented her on its thickness, volume, and dark color. Izayoi stayed silent, staring at the grass or the edge of the blanket, then at her own white-socked feet.

The women left her hair long. It was another virginal style. A sign of her youth and status. Izayoi's hair was so long that it nearly touched the grass. It fell around her in a curtain, solid and glistening. Izayoi laid her hands in her lap, folding the long, clumsy sleeves of her kimono to do it, and deliberately brushed her lower abdomen, trying to smooth out her thoughts for the child's wellbeing.

_I am beautiful,_ she told herself. _Takemaru wants me as his wife. It will not be hard to make him sleep with me. _But would she be able to survive it?

The sun was still up, but barely. Sumi led Takemaru over to where Izayoi was sitting. Izayoi heard them talking about her as if she wasn't there.

"She is in shock, Lord Takemaru. It may not be advisable for us to travel…"

"You do not know her as I do," Takemaru told Sumi with supreme confidence. "Lady Izayoi is as resilient and flexible as a sapling." His boots stopped in front of her and he knelt heavily, shifting the armor. He looked at her, but Izayoi only glanced at him before losing interest. She lost her focus on his face, but she forced her lips to smile.

Takemaru took off his helmet—a sign of respect—and set it aside. "Lady Izayoi…"

"Takemaru," Izayoi murmured blankly, acknowledging him.

"Are you well enough to travel? We have palanquins for the women. Aunt Sumi has told me you are physically well."

_Yes, _Izayoi thought. _A perfect spy. _

"I'm very tired," Izayoi said, not untruthfully. "And thirsty. And hungry."

Takemaru smiled and nodded appreciatively. "Then you shall eat and drink and sleep in the palanquin." He turned and addressed his aunt who was still standing. "You see? Lady Izayoi will recover in no time—bring her food and something to drink! As soon as she has had her fill we are leaving." He smiled again at Izayoi and then slid the helmet back over his head and walked quickly away.

Food came—fish and rice, pheasant and plums. Izayoi drank the water and the sake first, then delved into the food. She ate too fast at first and had to pause for several minutes, willing herself not to puke. The food and drink revitalized her, gave her strength and eased much of her shellshock.

By the time Sumi came and took away the bowls and cups the sun was hidden behind the trees and hills, as good as set. "It's time to go," Sumi said. "I will ride with you in the palanquin."

Izayoi had never seen a palanquin, let alone ridden in one. It was carried by men and amounted to little more than an ornamented, screened box. It was cramped inside and the air close and stuffy, but Izayoi was so exhausted that she almost immediately fell into a deep sleep.

She awoke only when the litter bearers set the palanquin down, jarring her enough that Izayoi snapped out of vaguely unpleasant, troubling dreams. At first she gasped and struck out at the darkness, slapping the screen and the wood of the palanquin so that her hand hurt and she cried out with surprise and mild pain. Sumi, sounding sleepy and irritated, snapped at her. "Hush, you're fine."

"What's going on?" Izayoi asked, blinking in the dark.

"They've decided to make camp finally. We'll wait here until one of the porters comes for us."

Refreshed with food, water, and sleep now, Izayoi was recovered enough to know what she needed to do.

"Where will Lord Takemaru sleep?" she asked, making sure to use respectful language around Sumi. She was dimly aware that she had not bothered to do it earlier—but in her shock the others would certainly excuse her for the lapse.

Sumi grunted and made a wet noise with her mouth, sucking on her teeth. "In a tent with all of the warriors."

"Thank you," Izayoi murmured, though she was disappointed at the news. Disappointed and relieved. Seducing Takemaru would be like drinking a foul tasting medicine. It was good for her, necessary for survival, but Izayoi would endure it only. She could not think of Inutaisho, of his caresses, his deep and powerful voice, the silk of his hair and skin…

The night passed quickly for Izayoi. She slept easily and woke even more rejuvenated—except that she was ravenously hungry and thirsty. She waited impatiently for rice to be served, then ate it rapidly while Sumi watched.

"You act as if the demons never fed you, Izayoi," Sumi commented. Her expression hinted at distaste. Her own bowl of rice was barely touched. In the time it had taken Izayoi to down three-fourths of her bowl, Sumi had eaten three or four small bites only. "My nephew was right—you're a very strange young woman."

It was not hard to see that Sumi did not really approve. Izayoi forced herself to slow the progress of her chopsticks, swallowing and thinking fast. "Sesshomaru made me walk all night. They didn't feed me when they took me from Nejiro."

"From the Dog General, you mean," Sumi muttered.

There was a gap of information, Izayoi realized. Takemaru and the humans knew some story of her experience at Nejiro, or at least they suspected. Had Shiroihana spun an elaborate lie for them? Izayoi had to tread carefully, to watch what she said. She could not reveal things to them but had to learn what they already knew or assumed.

Instead of give out any real details, Izayoi parroted what she knew the older woman expected to hear from the average woman. "It was horrible." She let some of her real grief spill into her voice and was surprised when tears burned in her eyes.

The theatrics were convincing. Sumi's expression changed, softening. She reached out and tentatively touched Izayoi's forearms in a gesture of reassurance. "There, there. You're far from there now. You're safe. My nephew will take good care of you."

"Thank you," Izayoi said, sniffling. She loaded more rice into her mouth, once more at a rapid pace.

They set out in the palanquin again but after half an hour Izayoi began to feel nauseous. She tried to quell the feeling but it persisted and worsened until Sumi could tell something was wrong.

"The motion disagrees with you?" Sumi asked.

Izayoi nodded sullenly.

"You could walk if you wish," Sumi said. "I will tell the porters to stop and call for a maid to carry a sunshade for you."

Walking was tiresome and made Izayoi's mouth and throat dry, but it relieved the nausea, which was as much motion sickness as morning sickness. Izayoi also saw the way the men traveled for the first time. The warriors rode horses or walked in a long caravan. Supplies were hauled by oxen and cart. Many of the men were fully armored, clattering in their saddles. They gazed with open curiosity and intrigue at Izayoi when she walked beside or behind them.

The maid carrying Izayoi's sunshade was roughly the same age, but she was bucktoothed and poorly shaped. Her frame had such small hips that her shape did not quite appear feminine. Her legs were disproportionately long compared to her torso. Yet the maid was good company and did not judge Izayoi, only jabbered with interest. Her name was Yoko and she put Izayoi at ease.

It was Yoko who told her that tonight they would not be camping on the road in tents. Tonight there would be an inn.

A little knot of dark anticipation started in Izayoi's gut. "Do you know where Lord Takemaru will sleep?" she asked, certain that Yoko would see nothing unusual in the question.

Yoko giggled. "He's the leader here. His older brother is Lord of the Setsuna clan. He'll sleep with a few of his closest allies and friends. All men." Yoko sighed wistfully. "He's so handsome. You are _so_ lucky."

Izayoi imagined Inutaisho's body, moist with sweat, his feral eyes wide and warm with affection and lust. She returned Yoko's girlish smile genuinely. "I know."

The day flew by quickly. Soon the procession entered a large, prosperous town that did indeed have an inn. Rooms were arranged quickly and the men dispersed while servants tended the horses and oxen and supplies. The maids moved about, arranging food for Sumi and Izayoi. Some of them sat and dined with Sumi, clearly they were her friends, her favorites. Izayoi ate heartily again, but at a much slower pace. She was still aware of Sumi's gaze each time her chopsticks traveled from her bowl to her mouth.

She had just begun to feel satisfactorily full when a manservant came to the door and called her name politely. "Lady Izayoi, come with me. Lord Takemaru has asked that you meet with him."

Sumi was scowling as Izayoi left, but Izayoi kept herself blank but friendly. She did not know what to expect as she followed the servant through the narrow, dark halls of the inn and to a room that seemed no different from any of the others. The servant slid open the door and motioned for Izayoi to enter. She did so and found herself facing a small room full of men. All of them stared at her, some leering with disgust, others bemused or admiring her with desire.

"Well she's certainly captivatingly beautiful!" one of the older men announced, lifting his glass of sake in a sort of toast in Izayoi's direction.

"So beautiful that she caught a demon's attention," a different man muttered, younger and sitting closer to Takemaru, to the right.

Takemaru cleared his throat and spoke to her. "Lady Izayoi! Where are your manners?" he was teasing, using a light and playful tone that she had almost never heard him use as a child and a hostage. For a moment Izayoi didn't know what he was talking about, then recalled her position as the only woman in a room filled with men. She had not bowed to them.

She dropped to her knees and bowed deeply. "Please forgive me, sirs. I have been away from _culture_ for a very long time." Inwardly she gagged on her own description, its outright untruth. The humans were barbaric compared to Inutaisho and Nejiro castle. She had forgotten to bow because the human men in her mind were hardly worthy of it.

The older man who had called Izayoi beautiful spoke directly to Takemaru, jovial and teasing. "You're going to have to keep your older brother off this one!"

Izayoi realized, from her safe, hidden position bowing on the floor, that these men had had a great deal of alcohol. She knew only dimly that this was a human pastime, and that drunkards could be unpredictable and dangerous for young women. She turned her head slightly on the floor, peeking at the men's faces as they continued to chatter.

Takemaru shook his head, scowling. "Ijimeru has more than enough to think about with Rini!"

"He hasn't touched her in months!" the old man said, laughing. "She's gotten so fat with his child! He will be on this one as soon as we arrive!"

"We should not speak so about Lady Rini," the younger man, sitting on Takemaru's right. Izayoi took this man in as a potential threat, like Sumi. "Her health has been fragile with Lord Ijimeru's child. Just because you have had too much sake Kobiru—"

The old man, Kobiru, interrupted him. "And you Koushou have absolutely no sense of humor! You're even worse than our honorable leader and general Takemaru!"

"Hush," Takemaru snapped, only partly serious. He was looser, more self-assured than Izayoi had ever seen him. He was thoroughly comfortable in his seat of power. He spoke to Izayoi then. "Sit up! Let us see your face, Lady Izayoi!"

Izayoi obeyed but kept her gaze cast downward now, as if shy. Takemaru did not introduce her to any of the men—there were still two others who had done nothing but watch and listen, both of them older and darker—instead he asked, "Have you eaten enough? Have you recovered from the trauma of your journey with that demon?"

Izayoi nodded. "Yes."

"Good—if you would give me the honor, Lady Izayoi, I would like to walk outside with you. We have much to catch up on!" He was smiling brightly but Izayoi sensed hidden depths that could drown her if she blundered.

Izayoi bowed politely. "I would be honored by Lord Takemaru's presence."

Some unspoken sign passed between Takemaru and Koushou at his right. Both men rose up and bid the others farewell. Takemaru came and stood beside Izayoi, waiting while she got to her feet as elegantly as she could, then walking so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. Koushou negotiated doors and servants, becoming a guard and escort—and a second set of suspicious ears, a second opinion.

They walked out onto the wide wooden verandah encircling many of the inn's rooms. The courtyard was carefully planted with decorative bushes, small pines trees, and stones. Izayi had strolled through it with Sumi and Yoko earlier, in the daylight. She gazed off into the darkness now, listening for the faint sound of water from the little pond with three koi fish swimming lazily within—but all she heard was the heavy tread of Takemaru beside her and Koushou behind her. Izayoi had the sensation of being surrounded, imprisoned by these two men, as if they were iron bars on a cage.

"You have grown even more beautiful since I last saw you," Takemaru said, speaking quietly.

It was the kindest compliment he had ever offered her, but Izayoi wasn't impressed. She thanked him blandly at first and then decided to tease him, to flirt as a simpleton like Yoko might.

"But of course I look better now that when you last saw me, Lord Takemaru—I had barely recovered from deathly illness then!" It was true. She had last seen him in Nejiro castle, not long after she had recovered from Shiroihana's attack and subsequent poison.

Now Takemaru lost his confidence. "That's—I did not mean…"

For a general he was certainly nervous.

She let out a small laugh and was relieved when it didn't sound forced. "I'm not offended, my lord." Her hands clenched in her sleeves, making sweaty fists. _Dearest, I am so sorry. My heart is with you. Please, forgive me._

Takemaru relaxed slightly. He smiled at her, small but genuine. "I knew there was a reason I waited for you. I knew I was not mad."

"What?" Izayoi asked, baffled by the sudden change.

Takemaru stopped on the verandah next to her, reaching out and taking her shoulders, rubbing them up and down with a tenseness that made it awkward, not suave at all. If Izayoi had been younger, inexperienced, and not hopelessly in love with a being that Takemaru could never compare to with such a short lifetime and limited body, she might have found his earnestness and nervousness charming. Even cute. Now it seemed awkward, unbearably so. Sleeping with him would be like trying to make love to a bamboo tree.

"My family has encouraged me to marry over the last two years. They gave up on you—but I could not. I couldn't forget you, alone with those damned demons…" he stopped and sighed. "Do you remember that awful palace? Do you remember when we promised we would leave our lives as hostages together and be married?"

Dimly, as if recalling another life, Izayoi remembered when she had watched Takemaru leave with Sesshomaru, heading for Nejiro castle where Inutaisho would become his sovereign, his guardian. She had envied him terribly, and missed him as well. In her mind he had already escaped life as a hostage then.

Takemaru went on though she had not answered. "After the Dog sent me away I couldn't stop thinking about you, trapped there and bewitched by demons. I was so stubborn about it that my brothers and my mother said I had been bewitched too—bewitched by you."

"Lord Takemaru," Izayoi murmured, unsure of what else she could say—if anything.

"So you must know—I am going to marry you," Takemaru said, fervently, fiercely. His breath smelled of sake. It was all Izayoi could to not to turn away from it. Her stomach roiled with irritation but she steadfastly remained. She even tried to smile, aware that the lights from the inn would illuminate her face.

"Lord Takemaru…" she repeated, trying to sound honored and shocked. She knew she could not manage to pull off delight.

"You don't need formality with me," Takemaru said, pulling her closer. "I feel as though no one else knows me as you do. We are already family, a clan of our own."

_You're drunk,_ Izayoi thought, barely managing to hide her disgust. Like the other men in the room, Takemaru had had a significant amount to drink this night and it was affecting him. She had never imagined the stiff, cold, and awkward Takemaru that she had known as a hostage bearing himself to her like this.

But then his voice dropped and Izayoi knew at once there was still a threat here, hidden but menacing. "So I must know my lady, I must know what happened when the Dog kept you there alone in his castle. Was it the way Kobiru and Ijimeru say?" Takemaru gave her a small shake, jostling Izayoi's head and neck so that she winced. "Did he enchant you and take you by force?"

Izayoi's cheeks were hot, so were her ears and neck, even her scalp. She let herself sag as if boneless and helpless in his hold. She let out a little whimper and did not meet his eyes. "Please don't make me recall it…"

Takemaru's voice changed, becoming harder, meaner. He shook her harder so that this time Izayoi made a little cry of real pain at it. "Then that was the way of it? Hmm? Did he ruin you? Taint you with his—his—"

"Please stop! I'm going to faint—I'm going to be sick…"

When Izayoi actually started to gag Takemaru seemed to recall himself and released her. Izayoi backed away and then stumbled to the edge of the verandah. She knelt, steadying herself with her hands, and retched into the dirt and grass. Not all of her supper came up, only a few mouthfuls before the illness had passed. When she had finished she shook, unable to recompose herself and unable to face Takemaru. _He will kill me…_

Behind her Koushou said, "Takemaru…"

"Leave us," Takemaru ordered. "I'm going to talk to her alone."

A second later Izayoi heard the other man's tread, moving away. From inside the inn laughter rose, long peals of it, rising and falling like wind-driven waves on the sea. Izayoi bit her tongue to keep from groaning at it.

"Can you get up?" Takemaru asked, suddenly standing beside her.

"Yes," Izayoi murmured.

"Then stand," Takemaru told her blankly. "You're so much weaker than the girl I remember at Nejiro. I pity you now. I was terrified of you then."

The admission seemed bizarre and it offered Izayoi enough distraction that she stood up and wiped at her mouth with her sleeve. Takemaru made a face of disgust but his voice was soft when he spoke. "I have arranged our marriage for this autumn. In another two cycles of the moon, when the leaves begin to change in earnest, we will be married."

Izayoi's mouth was bitter and foul. She covered her lips with her sleeve to redirect the nasty odor on her breath even as she rushed to change Takemaru's mind on the date. "No—please. Let us get married as soon as we are back." She strained, searching for a reason that would be practical and valid. She decided to partly tell the truth. "I need your protection! No one else understands what has happened to me—only you because you were there. We are close as no two others can be."

Takemaru sighed and wrapped his arms around her. Izayoi could not stop herself from remembering Inutaisho. His arms were so much more powerful, his grip overflowing with comfort and reassurance. Takemaru was a poor replacement, but she needed him.

"Arrangements need to be made," Takemaru explained with real regret. "Weddings take time and planning…"

She clutched at his collar, forgetting about the foulness of her own breath, and about being demure or weak. "Then take me as your secret wife before then—_please_—I _need _you."

It was entirely too forward, breaking all subtleties, all semblance of manner and sophistication. The message could not have been clearer unless Izayoi resorted to blank cursing. Izayoi was making a dangerous gamble, betting that Takemaru had consumed too much sake to resist her…

Takemaru seemed to hesitate. He lingered, holding her, breathing through his mouth. Izayoi had time to think what a pair they were, Takemaru with alcohol on his breath, and she with vomit on hers.

Then Takemaru withdrew and pulled on her hand. "Come with me."

They set off along the verandah, hurrying at a pace that made Izayoi nearly stumble in her kimono, which was narrow and wrapped tightly around her legs to encourage small, ladylike steps. At both Nejiro and Kagetsu before that, Izayoi had learned to wrap her kimono looser, to facilitate free-movement of her legs. She had walked like a man, just as Shiroihana did when the Queen chose to move rapidly. With Inutaisho a tight kimono was every bit as unwanted by him as by her. Inutaisho had not cared about demureness or his superiority over the female sex. Her respect was enough, her touch, her love…

Izayoi was caught in her own thoughts, distracted even as dread mounted inside her. Takemaru swept her into a corridor between the screened walls of rooms at the inn, most of them lit from within by orange light. When he encountered a servant carrying a tray with tea and sake, Takemaru ordered the girl to take him to an unused room. She hesitated, confused and caught between one job and another—but being confronted with a man like Takemaru, firm and determined, won out. She set the tray alongside the walkway and started heading back the way she had come.

She took them to a room where the screens were dark, unlit from the inside. Izayoi watched the girl as she followed Takemaru inside. The maid kept her eyes down, her head lowered submissively. It made Izayoi's stomach fall with dark anticipation.

Inside the room was dark. Takemaru paced over to one corner where the brazier waited. He lit it, setting the room full of orange light. There was a futon, unmade, bare, and a table with cushions around it for eating. The room was dingy and unadorned. Izayoi though back to Nejiro and its simple elegance with longing. To distract herself, Izayoi dismissed the maid and closed the door. When she turned back to the room, Takemaru was seated on the futon, already loosening his robes.

Izayoi moved forward. Her legs were stiff, her heart pounding and her stomach queasy, but she would not reveal her hesitance. She sat in front of him but did not look at him. She thought of her child, working herself up, like a soldier for war. This was a necessary evil.

She expected Takemaru to caress her, to have some semblance of romance. Instead he reached hastily for her obi and tugged at it impatiently. When it was clear that he was having a great deal of trouble, Izayoi helped him, smiling as if she was getting what she wanted. When the obi was off, coiled to one side of the futon, Takemaru took no time with the rest. He slid off her robes carelessly, reducing her to nakedness and vulnerability. Izayoi shivered unhappily against the comparative chill of the room on her bare skin, but then Takemaru was over her, perched like a cat over its kill.

He had not shed his clothing entirely, instead he still wore an undershirt but had loosened and kicked off his hakama. Izayoi did not see his most intimate parts; in fact she barely registered his face and dark hair as she turned her head and braced herself against his entry. But as he pressed into her the pain made Izayoi whimper and fidget.

Takemaru was not so cruel that he ignored her reaction. He pulled back from her and shook his head, baffled by her. "What's the matter?"

Izayoi scrambled for an explanation and felt tears spring into her eyes as fear, pain, and frustration mingled. Lies sprang to her tongue with amazing, unbelievable speed. "Lor—the Dog. I'm sorry—I'm frightened. He—he took me against my will. Please forgive me! I could not stop him. I've known nothing but pain and humiliation."

Takemaru's face twisted with disgust and hatred. "Don't say anymore." He covered his face with his hands. "I _knew_ it."

"Please forgive me," Izayoi whimpered, genuinely afraid that he would reject her as tainted and ruined. "I want this to work—please—try again." She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths, calming her body and mind. She imagined Inutaisho and tried to shy away from the pain he would have felt if he could have heard her blatant lies. _I am not here with Takemaru, I am at Nejiro, I am with my dearest…_

"Listen to me," Takemaru said in a dark, grave voice.

Izayoi opened her eyes and swallowed thickly.

"You must _never _tell another that the Dog took you against your will. My brother will forbid our marriage if he finds out. My clan will have you executed, banished, or worst of all, sent back to the Dog. They would probably make you kill yourself. That is what you should have done as a warrior's daughter." Takemaru's dark brown eyes drilled into Izayoi's mind, her heart, her soul, imploring her to obey.

"I understand," Izayoi murmured.

"And you must tell me—how often did that damnable Dog take you?" He leaned closer to her, snatching her arm in a grip that was painful. He did not loosen it when Izayoi flinched. "Was it recently? Could you be with child?"

"No!" Izayoi exclaimed, horrified. The emotions were real, as was the burning red of her face, but she did not try to hide them. Takemaru would take those signs of emotion as horror and shame at the very thought, not the fear of a new mother trying to protect her darkest and most precious secret. "He—he was gone so often…He was only interested in toying with me a very few times…"

Takemaru sighed with obvious relief. He had believed her. Izayoi relaxed as well, seeing his reaction as triumph. "Please," she coaxed him, "only you can heal me." She thought of Inutaisho as she said it and felt her body warm.

This had the desired effect on Takemaru. He moved forward, perching over her again, touching her face and hair in an exploratory way. Then he pressed into her again. This time Izayoi focused her mind on daydreams and memories and her body accepted the delusion. The sensation was not the same, but Izayoi closed her eyes, blocking out the light of the brazier, and imagined the room was dark and Inutaisho was over her instead, kissing her lips, face, and shoulders…

It was over much faster than Izayoi had expected. Takemaru cried out and the bones in his arms seemed to have liquefied because he could no longer support himself and fell forward onto her, panting and already slick with sweat. Izayoi blinked with surprise and then sighed with relief. Takemaru murmured something about loving her and wrapped his arm around her.

Izayoi felt tears and tried to hide them, but Takemaru didn't notice at all, not as Inutaisho would have. "Dearest," she said and felt her heart crack, aching with despair and shame at this betrayal. "Dearest." _Forgive me, I had no choice._

_

* * *

_

Endnote: Just **_on the TMI side of things here (skip to paragraph below to escape the TMI_**), I have a lot of experience with my body betraying me. My condition was officially diagnosed as being "vulvodynia vestibulitis and vaginismus." Basically my body tenses up and it's just a no-go. This condition ruined my wedding night, well, at least it affected it and made it not what I had always wanted and imagined. I've been having physical therapy and discovered I have a body-wide left side tenseness. I've been making some nice progress, but it's a long, uncertain road to normalcy, which I have never really experienced, unlike Izayoi. Someday I'll turn this experience into a nonfiction memoir thinger-story that I'll call "Do Not Enter" or something clever like that. And no one will want to read it (well, maybe) because no one likes to hear about painful sex. Seriously, so many people I confided in, telling them that it always hurt, looked at me like I was nuts. And they always assumed it was something I wasn't doing right, or that my partner was too rough or didn't do foreplay. Or worse, they think I have some sort of STI that's causing the problem. So I'm not ashamed of this condition, but others are, which is why I think someone needs to write about it. Like me. Maybe. Someday. Except I have little idea of how to go about nonfiction...

**(No longer TMI!) **It's really frustrating and disheartening to know that men just can't understand female sexual pain. It can be so touchy, wrapped up with their own egos. I considered having Takemaru just bulldoze through and make this really traumatic for Izayoi, but my instinct was that Takemaru is not that harsh and cruel. He definitely cared for Izayoi, he loved her. So I had him notice her pain, and he displayed a great deal of mercy here, though we wouldn't consider it that. He should have rejected her, had her kill herself for the shame. Instead he still wants her, wants to heal her, to give her a better life. It's not really his fault that she doesn't love him. He's trying his best.

Anyway, sorry for my rant (if you read it, if not, that's cool too!) and I shall see everyone next time!


	29. Confinement

A/N: In time for Thanksgiving! Sorry for my long delay. Life enjoys getting in the way. Between working, classes, and being a wife...no time!

Disclaimer: I do not own them.

Last Chapter: Izayoi joined the humans, Myoga was nearly killed, and Izayoi seduced Takemaru into sleeping with her on her second or third night with the humans. Also, Takemaru professed to being in love with her, bewitched almost. We met Koushou, Takemaru's friend, and Kobiru, an old lecherous man who teased Takemaru. Also, Takemaru's older brother, leader of the Setsuna clan was mentioned—Ijimeru who has a pregnant wife named Rini. Takemaru interrogated Izayoi and was told that the Dog took her against her will but that she wasn't pregnant. Oh, and we met Yoko, a maid, and Sumi, Takemaru's aunt and female spy.

* * *

**Pain has but one Acquaintance ****by Emily Dickinson**

Pain has but one Acquaintance  
And that is Death -  
Each one unto the other  
Society enough.

* * *

Izayoi

(Letters to Inuyasha)

Your father often doubted your older brother's heart. He saw nothing but a cruel outward mask and it shamed him. But I think—I know—he is very much his father's son, just as you are. Like your father, he is not human, so it is indeed foolish for me to believe I can read him, but I do not believe he wanted to kill your father. That was to be his destiny and he was fierce enough, cold enough to do it. Your father considered him a threat as much as an ally.

These were delicate, sticky odds and ends between your older brother and your honorable father. I know that your brother was pushed to succeed your father and take his title long before a natural death would have come to him. I do not know entirely to what length your brother was in truth involved with your honorable father's death, but Sesshomaru spared him long enough that your honorable father could save me and you—and set us free.

It was also your older brother who allowed your father to reach us in the first place. I sometimes believe it was Heaven answering my prayers after years of abandonment. Perhaps he took leave of his senses with pity that softened his hard, stony heart like rain softens dried earth. You must be thankful to him for this mercy, but never mention it. My advice to you, Inuyasha, is never to antagonize your brother. He will be like a hive of wasps. Steer clear of him but be mindful of him and you will be of as little concern to him as a stone.

* * *

**Confinement **

When Izayoi returned to the women's room late at night when Sumi and all the others were sleeping—with the exception of Yuki who was dozing off near the door—it was no secret what had happened to her. Her robes were askew, her hair mussed, her skin moist with perspiration. Yuki snapped awake at the sound of the sliding door on its track and in the last, orange light of the dying brazier she gawped at Izayoi's state of dress.

"Lady Izayoi!" she hissed. "Are you all right?"

Izayoi was already undressing into her under robe which had a simpler sash. Her legs were unsteady, weakened by the stress of her encounter with Takemaru. "I'm fine," she murmured.

Yuki came forward and helped her undress, taking Izayoi's outer robe and using it as a blanket over her rolled out sleeping mat. "He did not hurt you, did he?"

"No," Izayoi answered quietly, considering every word carefully before she let it slip out of her. What were the norms for these humans? What did they expect of her and Takemaru? Was it inappropriate that he had taken her to bed before they were married? Would she be punished for it, or would everyone quietly turn their heads? Was it possible they would laugh and twitter with jealousy and ask for nitty-gritty details?

In the end she only added, "Lord Takemaru had a great deal of sake this evening."

Yuki pressed forward, hissing with conspirator's urgency and intensity. "Did he just touch you? Did you see him naked? He didn't—he wouldn't actually…"

"We're to be married," Izayoi whispered.

The implication was powerful enough that Yuki flinched back with a girlish gasp, though what Izayoi had said was not old news. Everyone in the group had known that Takemaru intended to marry Izayoi as soon as he recovered her from the demons—if she was appropriate that was.

"You made love?"

Izayoi had turned her back on Yuki as she slid into position on her sleeping mattress. Her mind was preoccupied with sleep. Her body's needs outweighed the social ones that were pressing in around her, yet the terminology made her feel ill. "Please—I am very tired."

"It was bad," Yuki said, observing more than Izayoi had thought the girl was capable of. "He was rough? It hurt? Please—tell me!"

Izayoi laid flat and sighed though a slow, faint thought trickled through her. _Yuki is a virgin._ "Please," she repeated, whispering in the gloom—all too aware of the other sleeping women, breathing steadily ostensibly in deep sleep. "I only want to sleep."

"All right," Yuki muttered, sour at the rejection.

As the young maid withdrew, fixing her own sleeping mat and lying down on it, Izayoi closed her eyes and willed the present to vanish. The secret, intimate space between her legs burned with lingering irritation—_violation. _Takemaru was a poor lover, but Izayoi could not reveal that because it inherently suggested that she had something to compare him to…

She felt tears threatening but pushed them back, swallowing thickly and forcibly steadying her breathing. _This is your life now,_ she told herself. _There is no going back. You will survive. _

In her under robe was the small, iridescent black stone that Shiroihana had ordered Izayoi to carry on penalty of death. While Izayoi laid on her side, curled into a fetal position, she pulled out the stone and rubbed it between her fingers. Takemaru had not noticed it when he undressed her earlier, and in her internal distress, Izayoi had almost left it behind. It would not be hard to convince others it was a trinket or a good luck charm—but Izayoi could not afford to lose it by accident as long as she planned to continue living.

_But if I wish to die…_

She tucked the stone back into her under robe and tried to sleep in such a way as to avoid having the little stone dig into her. A futile struggle. By morning she would wake with one spot or another aching where the stone, as if had a malicious will of its own to cause her harm, had become pinned between her body and the mat beneath her.

* * *

In the next three days the group traveled with languid slowness. They had seemingly forgotten that they had fled from the Kosetsu province with the Dog General's prize. They were overconfident, certain of their success—or simply of the distance between themselves and the dens of the demons.

On two of the nights the group stayed in inns, on the other under the stars. On both nights that the caravan stayed in an inn, Takemaru called Izayoi to him. It was covertly, a secretive tryst that took Izayoi by surprise. Most knew or suspected what was happening, but they looked the other way. The few who didn't—such as Yuki—proved very useful to Izayoi.

"Lord Takemaru is very chaste. I _cannot_ believe he takes you into his bed!"

Izayoi had nothing to say, though she tried to smile. Her bones felt heavy, her chest tight. The baby was thick, making Izayoi's abdomen feel as if it actively swelled, bulging and bloated. She had slept fitfully, in spite of her exhaustion—physical, mental, and emotional. Her dreams tormented her though by morning she could not recall a single one.

It was a constant struggle throughout the day to hide signs of illness or discomfort. She had the sense that the other women watched her, curious and suspicious at all times. There was nothing else for them to do after all.

Aside from Takemaru's aunt Sumi, there were a few cousins about Izayoi's age as well as their servants. The cousins, Shingi and Musei, had little to do with Izayoi. Musei often stared with curiosity, frank and open. She had even smiled at Izayoi a few times during shared meals. Shingi on the other hand had a cold, hard stare that seemed to pierce through Izayoi unconcernedly. She was the more classically beautiful of the two young women, sisters, as well as the older.

Izayoi began asking about the family connections of the women from Yuki to sway the maid's attention away from Takemaru's newfound sexuality. "Are Shingi and Musei Lady Sumi's daughters?"

Yuki spun the sunshade playfully and then waggled it back and forth, trying to balance it on her palm. "Lady Sumi married into the Setsuna clan."

Izayoi sighed, smiling with amusement at Yuki's continued antics with the sunshade. It was a cloudy day; the sun was barely shining through the gloom though there had not yet been any rain. "You didn't answer my question," she said, coaxing.

Yuki lowered the sunshade and sighed. The corners of her mouth curled downward. "It's a very sad story; I didn't want to share it with you, Lady Izayoi."

Izayoi smiled and was surprised that she felt little bitterness as she said, "My life has been very sad already, Yuki. I don't think anything you can tell me will affect me much."

Yuki scowled but agreed. "All right. Well." She leaned closer to Izayoi and dropped her voice conspiratorially, whispering the tale as she would some bit of juicy gossip. The motion and the change of tone made Izayoi think with a mixture of happiness and sadness of Myoga, the flea, who had adored gossip and knowledge, in spite of being very much a male.

"Lady Sumi married Lord Takemaru's father's older brother. You see, back before Lord Takemaru's father took over the Setsuna clan, the position was supposed to go to his older brother, Lord Eiki. Lord Eiki married Lady Sumi, who was from the Miyabita clan, the same as you, my lady."

Izayoi blinked at the information, startled. She looked up and down at the caravan, instinctively longing to see Sumi's face again, as if she would find reflections of her own features in the older woman's face.

"But the marriage wasn't favorable within the clan," Yuki went on. "And the marriage itself was fraught with difficulty. Lady Sumi could not keep a child. There were miscarriages continuously. Meanwhile Lord Takemaru's father saw his older brother's childlessness and staged a coup. He took Lord Eiki's place with his wife, Lord Takemaru's mother, was pregnant with Lord Ijimeru. In shame, Lord Eiki took his own life. Lady Sumi was miserable and everyone expected she would do the same, joining her husband in death, but she refused. Instead Lady Sumi became a nanny and caretaker for all of Lord Eiki's brother's children."

The story was long and confusing, already Izayoi was unsure whether the news would help or harm her. Now that Izayoi knew Sumi was actually a daughter of the Miyabita, she might be inclined to slip around the woman, to grow to comfortable over time, to trust. She could not afford to make such a mistake. Just because Sumi had been Miyabita did not mean she could be trusted, and it didn't mean she would sympathize with Izayoi, another daughter of the Miyabita—the very _last_ of the Miyabita. But perhaps it explained why the old woman had come along and been so attentive to Izayoi while Musei and Shingi, the female cousins, hardly cared.

"What about Musei and Shingi?" Izayoi asked.

Yuki scoffed and picked flecks of dirt from under her fingernails. "They think they're very important, but they're _nothing._ They're Lord Takemaru's cousins from his mother's side. Shingi was Lord Ijimeru's choice for Takemaru's bride—before you were returned to us. But Lord Takemaru—" as Yuki spoke his name her voice changed with a silky, sensual sound that Izayoi knew was longing. "—wouldn't go through with the betrothal ceremony. He wouldn't have anyone but you, Lady Izayoi. It's _so romantic!"_

Izayoi fought for something to say and stammered with nervousness. "Y—yes…Lord Takemaru has been very…very _generous."_

Yuki's brown eyes roved over Izayoi, searchingly, trying to understand her. Izayoi purposefully looked away and pretended to be lost in thought or pleasant daydreams when in reality she thought she would faint or puke—she wasn't sure which.

The homecoming was more grandiose and impressive than Izayoi had imagined it would be, but it could never compare to the simple beauty and elegance of her life at Nejiro with Inutaisho as her lover. The humans, men, women, and children, cheered and clamored at the horses and the palanquins, bowing but simultaneously peeping up at the caravan as it passed. The road was muddy and flat with the passage of uncountable feet, hooves, and wheels, but low, rounded mountains reared on every side.

The first villages and towns in the Takeyabu province, the lands of Izayoi's birth and her now virtually extinct Miyabita clan, were small and fairly impoverished. Yuki asked Izayoi over and over again if anything was familiar to her, and eventually Izayoi realized that this was Miyabita clan land. The villages and towns were small and impoverished because they had been destroyed only a few years ago. The people living in them now, farming and raising their livestock, were either common survivors with no real family name at all, or they were people of the Setsuna clan, reclaiming the extinct Miyabita's homes and land.

The thought of it stirred the old bitterness between clans within Izayoi, the old memory of pain and loss. Unlike the survivors and the Setsuna clan itself, Izayoi knew that disaster had not befallen her clan by mere chance. It had come as punishment from Shiroihana. It was because of Izayoi that the Miyabita were dead and gone. It was ironic, harsh and cruel beyond reason, that Izayoi found herself their only survivor and soon she too would be absorbed into the Setsuna clan's holdings as Takemaru's beloved wife.

The weight of this grief made Izayoi weak and then ill. It grew within her slowly until it was unbearable. By the time the caravan had come to a proper outpost where Yuki told Izayoi that Takemaru's older brother Lord Ijimeru—now the head of the clan—was waiting for them, Izayoi was so exhausted emotionally sick that Sumi ordered Yuki to summon a physician and escorted Izayoi to a bedroom where she could rest.

Izayoi barely took in the small palace with its pale, undecorated screens and dark woodwork. Her room was barren and simple, with a mattress already laid out, which Izayoi was very grateful for. Sumi waited on her with the practical tenderness of a mother, though Izayoi could still feel the older woman's watchful eyes, taking everything in.

"This is hardly acceptable," Sumi murmured with a gentle, almost playful chiding. "You are supposed to be the lady of the hour," she explained. "My nephew will be in a tizzy when he learns that you're not well."

Even through her exhaustion, Izayoi found it odd and amusing that Sumi used such childish and familiar language to describe Takemaru. _Tizzy? _She didn't expect her illness would generate much of any emotional reaction from Takemaru.

The physician that Yuki brought for Izayoi was an elderly woman with a deep, soothing voice. She was dressed simply and Sumi at first openly doubted the woman's skill. "Yuki—I said to bring a healer, not a maid."

The old woman tolerated Sumi's skepticism with a dry smile. "I am Mikata, Lady Rini's healer."

This silenced Sumi, who scooted away from Izayoi's bedside and allowed Mikata to take over. The elderly healer knelt and laid her hand palm up to Izayoi's forehead and neck. She sighed and withdrew a moment later, announcing, "Well, there is no fever." She narrowed her eyes at Izayoi and asked, "Have you been eating and drinking properly on the road? Have you slept well? Have you been sick to your stomach or afflicted with bowel trouble?"

Izayoi had to fight to stay awake and answer the old woman. "I'm just tired."

"The journey has been hard on her," Yuki supplied with genuine sympathy.

Sumi was less compassionate, offering factual observations to the healer. "She has been sick to her stomach several times during the journey and she keeps late hours. When she does sleep it is fitful."

Mikata grunted, a startlingly masculine sound, filled with authority. She rooted around in a small wooden case that she had brought with her, producing two leather pouches that she handed off to Yuki. "Mix two pinches of each herb into some tea and bring it here."

Yuki left at once to do as she was told. Izayoi was awake enough to understand that some medicine had been sent for, but she knew she would not—could not—take it until she knew what was in it, or what Mikata thought she was treating her for.

"What is—what are the herbs?" she asked, scowling to fight off persistent tears.

"A sedative to help you sleep and a pain reliever to numb any pain you might be experiencing." Mikate cleared her throat and then, seemingly unaware of Sumi's presence, asked, "Is your fatigue driven by your emotions or your body?"

Izayoi hesitated before deciding that she would let some truth slip. As she spoke tears massed in her eyes and each time she blinked more spilled out of her. "I have not been here since my clan was killed. It is no longer my home. My family is dead and gone."

Mikata nodded and Sumi, just barely in Izayoi's sight, shifted, changing position. Izayoi longed to peer at Sumi's face, to see if the other woman, once part of the Miyabita herself, shared any of this emotion.

"It is going to be very difficult for you to bear," Mikata conceded, nodding. "I don't envy you. They're calling you the last of the Miyabita." Mikata scoffed with disgust. "Those men are as callous as turtles' shells. They don't know they'll bring you pain by reminding you of your loss constantly."

Though Izayoi had just met Mikata and barely knew her, she felt an immense gratitude for the elderly healer and dropped her head to the mattress, letting more tears flow. When the tea came Izayoi turned it down, claiming she would drink it later and insisting that she did not need it to help her sleep. There was no reason for Izayoi to fear the tea, or see danger in it for her child, but she could not shake the image and scent-memory of Shiroihana's abortive herbal tea. The tea that Yuki brought with Mikata's herbs smelled enough like it to make Izayoi fearful.

She slept for the rest of the day and through the night, waking rejuvenated. Yuki had slept in the room with her and had everything ready for Izayoi when she was ready to get up. She dressed Izayoi in layer upon layer of robes, rich and luxurious to the point of ludicrousness. The outer robes were more like jackets, but impractical as they trailed on the ground or just brushed it. At Nejiro, Izayoi had been active, walking between gardens and courtyard, classes and libraries, her bedroom and Inutaisho's. Now she saw a life of boredom and restlessness. Endless periods of sitting and waiting while servants bustled about, scurrying. Izayoi had been waited on before, of course, but her life had been independent and strong, practical. Now she would be an object to be seen, viewed by men.

"You're going to be presented to Lord Ijimeru today," Yuki told her giddily. "It will be a betrothal ceremony. A marriage date will be set for you and Lord Takemaru."

"Betrothal ceremony?" Izayoi asked, staring at her reflection in the bronzed mirrors. She had no idea what went on during such an event.

It too Yuki some time to understand that Izayoi did not know what a betrothal ceremony entailed. Yuki explained it patiently for the other woman. "The future husband and wife exchange gifts in sight of their two families, a date is selected, and everyone shares a meal. It will be fun! We get to feast!"

Izayoi prayed it was soon because she was already queasy, in need of food to sustain the ravenous little life that was expanding inside of her. She did not answer Yuki or speak much after this, merely stared unseeingly at her reflection, aiming her thoughts at her child, praying he—Inutaisho had been certain it would be a boy even before it was conceived—heard them. _Be slow, little one. Stay small for a little while longer. Hide yourself…please don't look like your father!_

When Yuki was finished with Izayoi's robes she sat in front of her and began applying some makeup with a childish grin. Yuki's teeth, misaligned and unpleasant to look at, distracted Izayoi for a time though she felt nothing but pleasant about the simpleminded and cheerful maid.

"You are magnificent!" Yuki announced. "You only grow more beautiful with each new day!"

Izayoi saw with surprise the redness to her lips, rouge. Otherwise Izayoi saw her own face as puffy, heavier than it usually was. The sight reminded Izayoi vaguely of her own mother just before she had died in childbirth. The recollection was frightening on more than one level. _I look pregnant,_ she thought. She had always looked innocent and girlish, but now her face had changed, becoming womanly. The other terrible thought was of childbirth. It had killed Izayoi's mother and Izayoi understood it to be a dangerous and painful test. Many never passed it and died trying. Izayoi had been far from lucky her entire life. Why should she think herself lucky in this way?

"Hurry now," Yuki admonished. "You don't want to keep them waiting!"

Izayoi endured the betrothal ceremony mildly, withdrawing into a formal, silent shell. She bowed in an audience room where men sat on a dais, elevated in places of honor. She listened as they welcomed her to the Kyoushi Palace, which had once belonged to the Miyabita. The Setsuna clan had renamed and claimed it. The new name they gave it meant _lovely figure_ and they felt, smugly, that the name suited it because it was where the ladies of the Setsuna clan were kept, along with the young, immature heirs of the clan.

"It is better for your kind here," Ijimeru explained imperiously with a smug smile. He was referring, Izayoi realized, to _women_ in general. "Women do best away from the gales and winds of the sea. Also you don't pollute the fishermen's luck or his catch living inland like this."

As far as Izayoi could tell, Takemaru and Ijimeru were outwardly very similar—attractive men with even features and appearances. No one with good eyesight would be able to pass them both by without thinking he had seen brothers, even twins. Ijimeru had apparently inherited the leadership of the clan because of the unlucky order of birth. He was lankier and paler than Takemaru. He was the weaker of the two and later Yuki would whisper that if Takemaru had not been taken by the dog demons as a hostage, then it was entirely likely that their father would have appointed Takemaru the heir instead of Ijimeru. As it was Takemaru was a general, commanding the might and strength of the Takeyabu's armies. Ijimeru only ruled in name.

But unlike Takemaru, Ijimeru was already married with an heir on the way. A healthy son from Lady Rini would assure Ijimeru of control for generations to come.

During the ceremony, Takemaru sat behind his brother, watching Izayoi with a bright, intelligent gaze. Gifts were exchanged by the "families" when Sumi moved forward carrying a chest of brilliantly carved wood. Izayoi stared at the chest and then at Takemaru's elderly aunt and tried to keep her lower lip from trembling or her chin from wrinkling. Sumi was the closest that this ceremony and the Setsuna could come to reproducing one of the Miyabita to genuinely represent Izayoi's family.

Ijimeru spoke through most of the proceedings and had a servant girl present Izayoi and Sumi with Takemaru's present. It was a richly embroidered and thick pink winter kimono overcoat. Izayoi found it beautiful and for the first time smiled with true joy at the gift. She did not at once raise her eyes to take in Takemaru's face, but instead recalled Inutaisho's lavish gifts of kimono. She restrained herself from crying with an effort, finally banishing her tears when she did look up at Takemaru. His lips were pinched thin, smiling only a little. The expression he wore was simultaneously pleasant and unpleasant. It could be interpreted however one would like, but Izayoi saw it as a dangerous duality.

If Takemaru had been smiling with unfeigned joy, delighting in her happiness at such a wonderful gift, Izayoi might have melted slowly for him. She might have gradually given her heart over to him as a true wife should. Instead she saw that he had given this lovely gift because he knew it was what Inutaisho had liked to give her.

Had he given it to incite pain? To torture her? Or to test her story? Did he suspect the truth? The tightness of his smile and the keenness of his eyes made her core icy cold with fear.

She bowed and thanked him in a quivering voice that she knew most of the room would think was an overwhelmed joy. But in her heart she cried and mourned.

The marriage date was set for the first week of the tenth month of the year as autumn was the nearest auspicious time for weddings. It was well into the eighth month of the year. Izayoi was already a full month along in her secret pregnancy. It was too soon to tell Takemaru that she was pregnant, but by the tenth month she might not be able to keep her secret. Everyone would know the child was conceived before the wedding night.

Fresh fear rippled Izayoi's gut and her womb seemed to clench, holding onto the scrap of life planted within.

* * *

Sesshomaru

(Response to Inutaisho's pleading scrawled at the bottom)

My son,

I am ashamed of my treatment of you. I wish so much between us was different than it is. I have tried to force you to behave as you cannot. I have tried to make you into someone that you are not, while not seeing what you are. You are my son, my heir. You will replace me. I would be a fool not to see that. You are immense, you are powerful. One day you will take my life. I would not choose any other death, for dying on your claws would fill me with pride. When that day comes I will not resist it—if you would do but one thing for me, Sesshomaru.

Let me out of my imprisonment. I must kill Ryukotsusei and I must save the girl. I will do anything you ask, Sesshomaru.

This Sesshomaru will not reply. Chichiue has no choice.

* * *

From almost the first day that Sesshomaru arrived to patrol the grounds around Nejiro, guarding his father and monitoring the kitsune messengers, Inutaisho had tried to convince Sesshomaru to let him go free. Sometimes the messages were harried and scrawled, sent by way of one of Inutaisho's foxes or human servants. Other times they were full length letters, formal and informal alike. Inutaisho tried poetry and gifts of armor forged inside his castle walls.

Sesshomaru ignored everything, though on occasion he scrawled messages back using mud and a claw. _This Sesshomaru will not reply._ Or _Chichiue has no choice._ When he was feeling extra chatty Sesshomaru used both phrases. It did not please him to have his father pleading, begging pathetically for release. In fact, Sesshomaru felt nothing but disgust and pity. He loathed this plan by his mother but did not trust Inutaisho to honor a single word of his letters. Inutaisho would say anything to escape his confinement, to persuade Sesshomaru to at last sympathize with him and let him out.

It was not that these letters did not reach Sesshomaru. They did, and it was only with the greatest effort that Sesshomaru restrained himself from showing emotion as he read many of them. He would have liked to have opened lines of communication with his father, face to face, but Shiroihana had forbidden it.

The rules, as Shiroihana had laid them down, were straightforward and simple. Sesshomaru was not to meet with this father in person. He would stay outdoors while Inutaisho stayed inside Nejiro. Sesshomaru could not communicate with Inutaisho. Shiroihana had expected that the clever and desperate Inutaisho would try to send letters, or to see his son in person, and she knew Sesshomaru was likely to give in.

"He will flatter you, beg you, worship you. He will say anything; promise anything, just to win you over, Sesshomaru. But don't believe him for a moment. One instant of weakness and Inutaisho will emerge out to kill you so that he will not have to satisfy those promises. He sees us as enemies. There is no going back."

Sesshomaru could still see her face, somber and hard, firm with determination, but her lips were soft, her mouth open. There was a rawness in her golden eyes, buried in the lines of facial muscle in her brow. Though Sesshomaru knew she was manipulating him, he could not deny the wisdom of her words. Shiroihana was as much protecting both of them as she was ensuring that Sesshomaru did not switch sides while he played jailer for this father.

"I know you will not much like it," she said, "but I am going to send Daken, my loyalist servant with you."

Sesshomaru had known immediately that this was a calculated decision for her to prevent Sesshomaru from seeing his father. Daken would only report to Shiroihana, and if Sesshomaru betrayed her, or simply ignored her rules and wishes, he would pass along the message. Daken's presence was both a blessing and an insult for Sesshomaru. It suggested that Shiroihana could not trust her own son, and though Sesshomaru would have claimed otherwise, they both knew he would find the task of blindly binding his father a difficult one.

Sesshomaru had tried to convince Shiroihana not to send Daken—as a sort of watchdog—but Shiroihana insisted. The company of the lowbred inuyoukai warrior was familiar and comforting, and Sesshomaru was more grateful in the end for him than anything else, but it was still a bitter reminder that neither parent was truly friend. Neither could be trusted and neither would trust him.

But Shiroihana revealed how well she understood him, and how completely she could manipulate her son's heart, when she reminded him, "Whatever he says, he is a desperate creature now. You will want to believe him. It will break you, deep, inside."

They had been sitting very close, almost knee to knee in Kagetsu palace during this discussion. Shiroihana leaned toward him slightly and extended her hand, touching the palm to his chest. Sesshomaru had felt the living heat from it and repressed a shiver.

Shiroihana stared into his eyes with a frank, disarming maternal tenderness. "This is not the situation you want to hear him express his devotion to you, or his love. Everything he says will be under duress and you cannot believe it. Even if he means it—he should have made it known to you much earlier, as you deserve."

Sesshomaru had stared back at her, blank and dead, but inside his heart burned, as if damaged by her touch. How true her words were in that moment, and like a fine miso soup, they had only improved with the passage of time.

Inutaisho's letters enraged and simultaneously gouged at his heart and mind. He could feel himself slipping into a lack of clarity, brought on by sorrow. He checked in with his mother as the months began to pass, with summer waning into fall, and did not try to keep anything from her. He revealed the frequency that Inutaisho sent letters out to him, and that every one had been ignored or rebuffed. Shiroihana was pleased and did nothing but smile when he was with her, rejoicing that her son was loyal and that her ex-husband suffered. Sesshomaru did not want to despise her and pity his father, but he found that he could not convince himself to completely share in her happiness.

But if she was right about Inutaisho—and Sesshomaru was certain that she was, to some extent—than he would be an idiot to betray his mother, who would assure his rise to power, for a father that might seek his death in vengeance.

This combination of uncertainty, resentment, and conflicted emotion held Sesshomaru in check as the warmth of summer faded and the chilly nights of the first days of autumn set in.

It was only occasionally that he recalled, with distant disgust, that somewhere the human girl was with the imbecile Takemaru, and secretly carrying Inutaisho's abominable half-breed spawn.

And that spawn was Sesshomaru's brother.

Whenever Sesshomaru remembered this he saw his father's letters in a hard, bitter light that left him no doubt. Inutaisho only wanted to escape confinement and rescue the girl and his bastard child. He did not mean a single word he sent to his firstborn son, the undervalued one that just happened to be his heir.

Each time this happened, Sesshomaru's resolve hardened, as cold and unyielding as steel.

Inutaisho's jailers remained united against him, immovable as mountains. And time marched ever onward.

* * *

After weeks of tension and nervousness, Izayoi gradually found herself acclimatizing to the Kyoushi palace. Takemaru and most of the other men had left swiftly after arriving, so Izayoi did not have to worry about her fiancé's presence. The marriage would take place in the Kyoushi Palace, and Izayoi did not know if the men would return before the wedding date or not. She did not even know why they left, or for what purpose. She soon found that she did not much miss them.

The rituals of everyday living eventually offered comfort, or at least an ease of her otherwise pervasive fear. Every morning Izayoi woke early in the morning and dressed or bathed with Yuki or another maid's help. Then she joined the other women in a small tearoom where they took their breakfast.

The food was at first the only part of this ritual that offered Izayoi any pleasure. It was simplistic, fruits or vegetables, seaweed or fish, or rice of some kind. Izayoi had to restrain herself on some mornings, while on others she had to force the food past her lips. She was perpetually fighting hunger or nausea, but luck was on her side and she never lost control and had to vomit during the breakfasts. If she did get sick it was quietly in her room or while dressing, or after breakfast was finished.

The rest of her day was spent in quiet activities. She read or studied and wrote poetry—a skill she found that the other women had studied for years. While the afternoons and evenings were bright and warm, Izayoi might walk through the small gardens with their stones and decorative moss. She often peered out into the dark forest of bamboo that bordered and surrounded the palace on almost every side. She daydreamed of escaping through it, or leaving the small stone that Shiroihana had ordered her to wear deep within it. Then the foxes and other demons that Shiroihana had assured her were watching this place would spill out of the bamboo and end her existence—and with it her fear and uncertain future.

The women of the palace eventually ended these lonely activities. Sumi asked Izayoi to join the other women while they sewed or studied poetry. Izayoi was perceptive enough to know that this offer was not one she could refuse. So she began to integrate with the other women and learn more about them and their skills and purposes about the palace.

They did not study war or combat, languages, or even cooking. Instead they were excellent embroiderers, capable of producing beautiful leaves and flowers on any bit of cloth. When Sumi first sat beside Izayoi inside a large room that opened to a wondrous view of mountain peaks and pale green bamboo, and began to sew, Izayoi could hardly take her eyes from the scene outside. She was shy and intimidated by the other women, many of whom she had never met or never spoken with even if she knew their names.

And they were far more skillful than she was.

Sumi could embroider the Setsuna's clan crest and name in a day and a half, even when she complained of arthritis. The other women were not far behind her in their skill with the needles. Izayoi was embarrassed by her own inexperience, cumbersomeness, and slowness. She made countless errors and pricked herself until soon it became apparent to all of the women that she would stain cloth. Sumi took away the fine silks and offered Izayoi a scrap that none of the women cared about.

"You'll practice for a time until you can sew the fabric instead of stain it." She'd spoken teasingly, smiling, but Izayoi had felt the reproach and disgust flowing from the other women and bowed her head. It was her failure with the sewing that brought attention from the others—hardly the introduction that Izayoi had wanted or needed.

"What did you do all these years?" Rini asked, gawking. She was Ijimeru's wife and heavily pregnant. She could no longer sew herself because her wrists and fingers were swollen with water-weight from the baby and the surging hormones within her. She had always smiled at Izayoi but never spoken directly to her. Izayoi had the sense that Rini was good-natured and simple, pliable and patient. Izayoi had often wanted Rini to chatter with her the same way she did with the other women.

Izayoi, vulnerable and emotional, could not stop tears from threatening. She blinked them back but knew from the flash of interest on most of the other women's faces that her reaction had not gone unnoticed. _If only I could spend my days with men, _Izayoi found herself thinking. _They would be too dense to care or notice what I am feeling. _These women were bored and unoccupied. They _looked_ for distractions and personal drama.

"Yes," Shingi insisted, "tell us about your captivity!" Shingi flicked her eyes up and down from her own needlework and her lips twisted in a hard line that Izayoi interpreted as cruelty. Shingi was young and beautiful—as well as unfriendly. She considered herself Izayoi's competition. It must have been a hard blow for Shingi to find Takemaru unwilling to marry her when there was nothing wrong with her. She blamed Izayoi for this—Yuki assured Izayoi of this—and had been incensed on their journey the first time she'd seen Izayoi, raging to Yuki and others, lamenting that the last of the Miyabita clan was more beautiful than her.

Izayoi hardly considered herself more beautiful than Shingi, but she knew she was much smarter than Shingi thought she was and knew how to use it to survive.

Izayoi let out a pathetic, purposeful cry and covered her face with her hands. "Please do not make me recount it! I beg you!"

This had the desired effect. The women murmured with sympathy, both feigned and real. They tended to follow whatever Rini thought of something, and Ijimeru's wife was kindhearted. She defended Izayoi loudly. "Leave her be, Shingi! You're just jealous of her and everyone here knows it."

Izayoi's nights were tormented and lonely. She dreaded and longed for them, for dreams of mourning and happiness. Sometimes she was in Inutaisho's arms, or she felt his lips on her skin, his hand caressing her neck or her hair. But most often she dreamt of violence and shadow, of smoke and flames. She saw Takemaru in red armor, prepared for war. The moon was dark and seemed to bleed. Then she would feel despair and loss, the same that had struck her when she'd learned that her clan had been murdered. But this time the emotion came from knowing that Inutaisho was dead. But how could that ever happen? How could that be nothing but her own blind fear fueling an unreal dream?

In her waking hours she sometimes worried about these dreams. Why wasn't her child in them? Where was the joy of new life? She had chosen the child, chosen this miserable, exiled life without the benefit of her immortal lover. So where was her baby, her son? But he was always just out of her grasp, out of sight. Sometimes she thought she heard his wailing inside her dreams, and felt her body become heavy and cold, immovable while she longed to comfort him, to cease his tears.

_Your mother loves you, little one. Your mother is here. Hold on._

_

* * *

_

Yuki told Izayoi that it was general knowledge among most of Takemaru's close male friends that he had taken Izayoi to bed already. The women, of course, already suspected or knew as much, so as a full month churned by and Izayoi's robes and bedding remained unstained by menstrual blood, they began to look at her with suspicion and curiosity.

At first Izayoi could not fathom their knowledge, but she realized she had been too long away from human kind. She had lost touch with their ways—that the women knew each other like sisters, both loving and hating them, and they knew the patterns of one another's bodies as well as they knew their own. It was an obsession they shared, a similarity that separated them completely from the men. This monthly bleeding, the impurity, the seclusion and mystery of life, sex, birth, and death. They discussed the woes and joys of womanhood with each other while sewing or discussing literature, or constructing poetry. It was foreign to Izayoi, who had spent so much time away from the company of other women. She remained silent while they chattered about stains, cramping, aches, and the unpredictability and fragility of life.

Izayoi learned by listening that Rini had struggled for years already to conceive and carry a child to term. She was close now, so close that her body had begun practicing with false pangs of labor that made her cry out and cringe. She had tried every position, every day of the month except for the week of menstruation, and then every herb and prayer to at last get pregnant and stay that way. Now, when the other women of childbearing age began to bleed, Rini stayed clear of them, afraid that some miasma in the air would trigger early labor.

Izayoi sat with the women regardless of whether any of them or all of them were menstruating. She did not doubt the life growing inside her. Its stubborn heaviness, its dogged strength. Miasma or not, her child would endure. A new awe began to open within her as she considered how many failed attempts Rini had had to conceive and carry the newest potential heir to the Setsuna clan. Rini had tried for years with Ijimeru, another of her own kind, while Izayoi had suffered only two miscarriages in less than one year before life took root within her womb—and this child was not pureblooded. It should have been weak and faint. Instead it was like an ox, unbreakable, infallible. She would have thought this was Inutaisho's influence, his immortality, but she began to think it marked her own strength as well.

Her courage and confidence increased.

So it was that one afternoon, a month and a half after her arrival there, Sumi was absent from the usual sewing room. There was no mention of the difference and so Izayoi settled down with the women and began to sew while listening to them as usual. Less than an hour later, however, Sumi arrived and called Izayoi to follow her. Perplexed but obedient, Izayoi did as she was told and followed Sumi to a small room that had been lit and warmed with multiple braziers. Inside she saw Takemaru and the physician Mikata waiting.

Uncertain, Izayoi bowed after coming in and settled on the matted floor across from her future husband. Takemaru greeted her formally and then introduced the physician, though Izayoi already knew the old woman. Sumi sat behind Izayoi, near the door, out of sight and supposedly out of mind.

"It is good to see you again, Lady Izayoi," Takemaru said, smiling lightly. "Have you been well?"

Izayoi saw at once that this was her time to announce the pregnancy, but in the same second she saw that she had to be careful of how it was done. She had to play the proper role. She lowered her eyes and let a blush crawl over her cheeks. "Lord Takemaru, I am most pleased to see you returned safely. I did not know when I would see you again."

"I was required to show my brother to the capital city of the Setsuna, on the coast. It pained me to be away from you for so long. My aunt tells me that you have adjusted to life here. I am glad." He sighed, apparently relieved. He paused, visibly weighing his words, while Izayoi waited. "My aunt also tells me that you…that your courses are overdue."

It took Izayoi a long time to realize he meant her bleeding. He was trying to say, without doing it directly, that he suspected—as did Sumi—that Izayoi was pregnant. She did not want to proclaim this herself and struggled to pretend she hadn't grasped his meaning.

Takemaru blushed and lowered his voice, as if the other two women in the room did not already know what was happening or being discussed. "Are you with child, Izayoi?"

Immediately Izayoi put on an act of restrained exuberance. She covered her mouth with both hands and shook her head. Through her fingers she whispered, "I will not say anything aloud. Lady Rini suffered so much—words have the power to undo everything."

Takemaru pulled back, surprised by her reaction, but a look of warmth and affection began to cross his face. "If you will not say it, Izayoi, than I will." He grinned, filled with pride, and turned his head to look at his aunt and at the physician. "We have made a child! A son, I'm sure of it!"

He motioned eagerly for Mikata and the physician moved forward on her knees, lowering her gaze deferentially. "My aunt tells me that this healer did an excellent job returning you to health when you were ill," Takemaru said. "I have asked for her to be hired as your doctor."

Izayoi, liking the old woman, smiled genuinely. "Thank you, my lord." Then, after a moment of caution and hesitation, she said, "I am also sure it is a son. I feel blessed by Heaven."

Takemaru laughed, a light and joyful sound. Izayoi smiled and her shoulders and back relaxed, releasing tension she hadn't known she was carrying. _He believes the baby is his. _She closed her eyes and thought at her child: _You are safe now, little one._

* * *

Endnote: Poor Takemaru. I kinda pity him. But I especially pity Sesshomaru. Caught between parents...never getting the recognition by his father that he deserves. You can see in the anime, over and over again, that Sess was turned away by his father. The sword business and all...


	30. Deathly Deliberations

A/N: Sorry again for all the time that has passed. Time just gets away from me! ACK! Hope this rather LONG chapter will make up for it. Oh, and MERRY CHRISTMAS! (Or whatever Holiday you celebrate!)

Disclaimer: Do not own them.

* * *

"Death never takes the wise man by surprise, he is always ready to go." **by Jean de La Fontaine**

"Death is the only pure, beautiful conclusion of a great passion." **by David Herbert Lawrence**

* * *

Izayoi

(Journaling about Inuyasha for Inutaisho)

Dearest,

I know I will never have the pleasure of seeing you read these words, but I am sure I feel you with me. I used to see you so vividly in my dreams, but now the clearest picture I have of you is in Inuyasha. This saddens and gladdens me at the same time. It is so hard to watch him grow and know you cannot see him as well, at least not on the same plane of existence. I miss you terribly.

Today Inuyasha lost another tooth. He reminds me so much of a puppy, and he has a great affinity for dogs as well as people. This is something I never expected, though I know you would have an explanation for it. I wish you were here to guide me. As he gets older I know I can't anticipate what will happen. He is my son, your son, our son, and I will always love him as I still love you, now as well as in memory. But I cannot stop worrying for this child of ours. He is so different from other children, from boys and girls his age. I cannot compare him to dog demons of a similar age because I have never seen one.

He likes to gnaw on furniture, and claw on tatami mats. He has developed so strangely, much faster than other babies and children. Now he has begun to lose his milk teeth at only four years. He is still so young, but he knows he is different from the humans around him. Even I do not know what to make of much of his behavior. I miss you most in those times. I know you would tell me what is normal and how I should react to it. Without your greater knowledge and experience, I am lost. But I will not despair. As different as our son is from those around him, I can see the little man in him, growing fierce and clever like his father.

I have already begun teaching him how to read and write. I see you in the way he is mesmerized by knowledge, and I see myself in the way he smiles…

* * *

**Deathly Deliberations **

Word spread quickly through the palace. Those that had already suspected were vindicated and stared more openly now at Izayoi. Those that had not suspected expressed their surprise and well wishes, real or fake. Maids and servants found reasons to linger near her and speak to her about "her good luck" or simply to spy on her.

Izayoi understood gradually that it was a breach in tradition for Takemaru to have acknowledged her pregnancy this early. Normally it would be gossip and speculation when a woman gave birth too early after her marriage for the child to have been conceived after the wedding night.

Yuki began to whisper of conspiracy, alarming Izayoi. It seemed that Izayoi had blundered into a place of ultimate power by "conceiving" Takemaru's child.

"You must be on your highest guard," Yuki warned her one early morning while they were alone in a small dressing room. "There's been some dangerous talk that Ijimeru is starting to see Lord Takemaru as a threat. Unlike Ijimeru, Takemaru is actually an excellent warrior. Many families would rather see Takemaru as clan leader. And now, with Takemaru about to marry you, and you already pregnant with an heir—_anything_ could happen."

Izayoi scowled at her reflection, unhappy to hear this. She had been a pawn for most of her life—first a pawn and hostage to ensure peace, then a spy for Sesshomaru, and finally she was the piece that locked Inutaisho down, holding him in check.

Now she was a pawn for human disputes again. The thought of it left Izayoi tasting bile. She stared into her own face and thought, _When will I get to live simply? When will I be free of all this?_

She closed her eyes, knowing that more than ever, her fate rested with the child inside her. If it did not resemble its mighty, immortal father outwardly, then it could become Takemaru's heir. And the child would be a magnificent one—stronger than any mortal man. Izayoi might be bringing the child into a life among the humans that would be blessed and envied. Her son could inherit the whole of the Setsuna clan, while not actually having a drop of Setsuna clan blood in his veins.

But if he looked like his father, they would both die. It was a dangerous gamble.

And in the meantime, Izayoi had to survive and give birth.

* * *

The marriage took place in a somber ceremony inside Kyoushi palace. Takemaru and Izayoi exchanged the three sake cups, drinking them down to bind themselves together as husband and wife. They spent the night together in a room that was lavish and heavily decorated as compared to the rest of the palace. Takemaru undressed her and then stared at her in wonder. He touched and rubbed her body with affection and appreciation. Izayoi worked hard to return his smiles and laughs and proclamations of love with her own.

Takemaru was too dense and too happy to notice any quaver in her voice, and any hesitancy. He imagined he saw reactions of longing at his touch and he lamented that although he desperately wanted to make love to her, he worried that the child might suffer for it.

Izayoi expressed similar fears while inwardly rejoicing at her own foolish luck. Takemaru was suspicious and frightened of hurting what he thought of as his child, but Izayoi already knew this child was hardy enough to handle intercourse, just as her own body was strong and flexible enough to endure Takemaru, in spite of the fact that he was a horrible lover. So instead of having sex, Izayoi spent her wedding night lying next to her new husband, dozing.

Three days later, Takemaru left again for the capital on the coast of the Takeyabu province. He promised to write everyday and asked Izayoi to do the same, to keep him constantly updated with how her pregnancy was and how she adjusted to her new life in the palace. Out of captivity.

Izayoi agreed that she would but thought bitterly that this palace was more confining than even Shiroihana's had been. In the Kagetsu palace Izayoi had been able to walk on the mountainside, free of servants or other women pestering her. She had felt the breeze and the sunshine. She had hidden from rainstorms under the eaves of huge pine trees. Now Yuki followed her everywhere and Sumi was constantly watching her. Izayoi was discouraged from walking for prolonged times outside. The sunlight was unhealthy, the women warned.

With Takemaru gone Izayoi returned to the women and their typical day of mindless drudgery. As the weather began to change, with the nights and mornings growing colder and colder, the women moved their needlework deeper indoors and increased the number of braziers burning to warm and light it, but still they complained of cold, stiff fingers. Izayoi found that hers too were more difficult than usual. Just as she had thought she was getting better at it, the cold weather made her stab her fingers again.

The women's patience for the needlework diminished and soon they practiced poetry more often than they sewed. The women now discovered Izayoi's absolute lack of ability and training with poetry as well. They played games where each wrote a stanza of poetry to make one enormous poem, or each made a line or a short verse and then one woman was chosen to select the best. Some of the women began to make a new game out of this—a competition to guess which poem was Izayoi's. It was Shingi's game but Rini enjoyed it as well, though not in the same way as Shingi. Rini was good natured about it, and always managed to find something to praise in Izayoi's work, and then a way she could improve it. Shingi, meanwhile, did it only to wound Izayoi, to belittle her.

The game humiliated Izayoi, though she tried to keep up a strong bearing, knowing that if she wept or refused to play then Shingi had won. But one day, frustrated as this humiliation went on and on, Izayoi decided to confound these women, to astound them.

She wrote a few lines from a Chinese book that she could still remember. It was not poetry, but she structured the characters as if it was a poem and blew on the ink in her usual way to dry it, then folded the paper and tossed it into the ceramic plate where all of the women put their poems. She had finished quickly and waited some time before Sumi and Musei, the most skilled poetry writers, finished.

This time around it was a maid's turn to guess which poem was Izayoi's. Her name was Shima and she was graceful and cold middle aged woman who delighted in this game with the same cruelty as Shingi. In fact, Shima was Shingi's maid, serving the two sisters with loyalty and dedication. She had hardly ever looked Izayoi in the eye, let alone spoken to her.

Shima picked out the most recent batch of poems and opened them all before looking at each with squinted eyes. She was silent for far too long. At last Shingi raised her voice impatiently. "Well, which one is hers?"

"I can't read this one," Shima muttered, shaking her head helplessly.

"Then that one is hers," Shingi announced, laughing. She plucked at the paper that had befuddled Shima and looked over it with a small sneer curling her lip. Her gaze lifted to Izayoi, who waited expectantly. "What is this nonsense? This isn't writing…"

"Let me see!" Rini cried, excited. She took the paper from Shingi and scowled at the unfamiliar script. "I can't read this either! How extraordinary!"

The paper worked its way around through each of them, until it was firmly established that none of the women or maids could decipher it. It was also clear that none of them had written it.

"What is it? What does it say, Izayoi? Musei asked, genuinely intrigued. "Is it some sort of secret Miyabita clan language?"

Sumi snapped at the girl, "Don't be ridiculous. The Miyabita clan spoke Japanese and wrote Japanese, the same as the Setsuna, from the beginning of time."

Shingi apologized for her younger sister. "We forget Lady Sumi that you were one of them."

Sumi was silent, but Izayoi did not miss the insult lingering in the older woman's dark eyes.

"Well, what is it?" Rini demanded. "I want to know! I think we all do."

Izayoi cleared her throat. "It's the language of the mainland."

The women exploded in confusion, filling the air with their questions. Izayoi soon realized that their impression of the mainlanders was mixed and confused. They thought some of mainlanders were filthy barbarians who had often tried to invade the Japanese islands. Shingi in particular announced her disgust for having just seen and trying to read the foreign script. But Sumi and Musei knew that many advancements had come from the mainland. The people of China had shared Buddhism with Japan, and Chinese architects and doctors had been brought over from the mainland to teach the people of the islands.

But unanimously they all asked how Izayoi had come to acquire the knowledge.

"I did not learn sewing and poetry," Izayoi explained. "Because I was busy learning how to read and write in Chinese."

"Why?" Musei asked. "The language we speak and read in is Japanese. It's useless to learn anything else."

"The language of the mainland was the one the dog demons preferred," Izayoi only halfway lied. "I had to learn it."

"They did you such a disservice," Rini lamented, sighing. "You should have been learning how to sew and write proper poetry."

Izayoi lowered her gaze to hide her angry reaction. "I know." _No, you are the ones who should have been learning something more, something different. This is all idle work. _

Then, quite suddenly, Rini cried out and grasped her side. Her face clenched up with agony. All of the women, especially the maids, sprang into action. When the pain did not subside swiftly and Rini broke out into a sweat, the maids helped her out of the room to lie down.

In Rini's absence the women spoke in lowered voices, restrained yet tinged with excitement. Rini's child was potentially the next heir to the Setsuna clan—but it could also be a useless girl, or a stillborn. And putting the child out of mind, the women were especially frightened of, but unwilling to say that Rini might not survive. They were all, on the surface, fond of Rini. None would wish her a premature demise while trying, ironically, to bring forth life.

Izayoi knew that childbirth could bring a woman low, could drain even the most determined, brave, and strong young mothers of life. It had killed Izayoi's own mother. For the first time, Izayoi felt tense and uneasy at the thought of the growing, thriving baby inside of her. In so many ways it was both blessing and curse. It could ensure her safety, or it could kill her.

Much later, in the evening, Izayoi sat in her bedroom with Yuki, studying the construction of proper poetry, while Yuki whispered gossip and conspiracy.

"If Lady Rini's baby is a boy, you will be safer," Yuki told her quietly.

"Then I pray it is a boy," Izayoi murmured. She had no interest in playing a role in the battle between Ijimeru and Takemaru.

"But you must pray for Lord Takemaru's success!" Yuki hissed, alarmed at Izayoi's words. "A girl child will weaken Lord Ijimeru's position and propel Lord Takemaru and your child forward."

Izayoi frowned. "I will never seek an outcome that encourages strife and danger. Besides, Rini and I might both have daughters. What will happen then?"

"Yours will be a boy," Yuki insisted, raising her voice with confidence. "Everyone believes it is touched by destiny and Fate. That Lord Takemaru would have none but you, and that as soon as he had you, there is a child. They say Lord Takemaru rescued you because he knew you would give him an army of sons…!"

Izayoi could not stop herself from snorting at this ridiculousness. "I am no more special than you or Rini or anyone."

Yuki stared at her mistress with wide, round eyes. She shook her head emphatically. "I have heard the rumors about the suffering you endured with the dog demons. I have seen the scars on your legs, my lady."

Izayoi averted her gaze, turning her head away at the mention of her scars. She could feel them stinging, burning with distant memories of agony and suffering. No one had spoken a word about them until now. It was the proverbial elephant in the room whenever Izayoi dressed. The servants and maids of Nejiro had known of Izayoi's injuries, and they had admired her for surviving. They had known the wounds were inflicted by Shiroihana, which partially explained them because the female leader was known to be mercurial. The servants and maids who saw Izayoi's scars now had no idea where they had come from or why. No doubt they assumed Inutaisho had done it, that the whipping had been in a part of some perversion, a sexual encounter.

Izayoi would never explain it to anyone, not even to Takemaru, though she had felt his curiosity and fascination the first time he had realized they were there. He had asked when and how it had happened, but Izayoi had distracted him and pleaded with him not to make her retell it. She did not care what he thought had caused them.

"You are stronger than any other woman I have known!" Yuki exclaimed.

"I am nothing more than a stubborn survivor," Izayoi said, dismissively. "And I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Yuki ducked her head, acknowledging Izayoi, but it was clear from her expression that she disagreed and would have talked all night about it.

The night passed uneasily, with a perturbing slowness. Morning came and Izayoi learned from Yuki upon waking that Rini was still in labor. It was unquestionably true labor and several physicians, including Mikata, had been called to aid the laboring lady.

The day wore on like any other, except for the undercurrent of tension among the women as they sewed. There were no games in Rini's absence and the young mother was barely discussed. _It is as if she has already died,_ Izayoi thought with a tremor of thin horror.

"Lord Ijimeru has been summoned," Sumi said at one point, after midday. "But it will take days for him to arrive." Unspoken was the rest of her sentence: _By then it will be over._ But how would it end?

Izayoi spent much of the day staring at the place where Rini usually sat upon her cushion, smiling with her puffy face and complaining lightly about her swollen ankles and other joints.

Nighttime came without word, but now, as Izayoi moved through the hallway, she could hear Rini crying and whimpering with each dreadful pain. Izayoi sat in her room in a troubled silence, considering the child within her and pitying Rini while knowing that it would not be long at all before she would endure that same suffering.

When morning arrived, Izayoi woke to find the palace stilled and silent. At once she knew they were mourning, but could not be sure who had died—or if both mother and child had perished. Yuki told her in a whisper that was not sad at all.

"You have enormous luck, my lady. The child was a girl and did not survive long after she was born. Lady Rini is ailing as well. She may not survive until nightfall. If you were not already with child and married, I would be frightened for you if Lady Rini died." She dropped her voice further and wrinkled her face, as if what she said was particularly heinous. "Lord Ijimeru could have married you—but you are very much safe from that fate."

"If Lady Rini dies he will try to kill me then," Izayoi inferred sourly. "I would prefer an unwanted marriage to death." _There is no greater truth than that,_ she thought and smirked darkly.

"You will be safe," Yuki promised. "Mikata and I will serve you as if you were the Emperor himself!"

The days of mourning were quiet and tense, but also unutterably boring. Izayoi began to avoid the women, unwilling to subject herself to their uncomfortable and unending silences. The only time any of them spoke was to tell Izayoi that her needlework was unacceptable. Izayoi practiced the sewing and embroidery alone, in her room, often pleading illness.

It was astonishing to everyone when word spread that Rini had not followed her baby into the lands of the dead. She had fought stubbornly and survived the fever and grief of the birth, but when she rejoined the other women she was weak, pale, and dour. Her loss had permanently scarred her with grief and closed her off from the other, mostly happy women.

Oddly, Izayoi found herself liking Rini even more. The young woman now looked out at the world with an expression and a dark light in her eyes that stuck a familiar cord inside Izayoi. It was undoubtedly a kindred spirit to the sort of all-consuming grief that Izayoi had felt at the loss of her clan and her lover.

The Setsuna men came and went during this time of mourning, but their presence was tiresome and preposterous for the women. Ijimeru brought Rini fine lavish gifts which the young wife accepted with endless gratitude, but when she was with the women again she would scowl bitterly. "As if a kimono could replace a child," she scoffed.

Meanwhile Takemaru visited Izayoi with small gifts, trinkets like lacquered combs and jade hairpins. He was thrilled at the sight of Izayoi's rounded belly and laughed with awe and glee when he was able to feel the child's kicking. Izayoi was only mildly amused by this interaction. Inwardly she was upset at Takemaru's joy. _Dearest,_ she thought, _you are the one who deserves to share this with me. Takemaru is a thief—he has stolen this from you. _

When the men left again Rini lamented. "He didn't give me a child," she cried and sobbed to the other women. "He was too eager to leave for the coast and take up with courtesans and brothel girls again!" She moaned and covered her face with her hands. "Why did I survive?"

Though Izayoi was kind and patient and genuinely grieved with the stricken woman, the wife of the man that Yuki swore was Izayoi's greatest danger, Rini did not reciprocate. She began to glare at Izayoi and pick on her just as Shingi did.

* * *

As the first snows fell and winter set in with its usual ferocity and vengefulness, Izayoi found her swelling belly began to show through her thick winter robes. Her breasts were larger and often ached. In the mornings when she bathed and dressed, Yuki commented on her swift progression, on the early emergence of stretch marks, on the large size of the baby. When the baby began to move, stretching out miniscule limbs inside Izayoi's expanding womb, Izayoi was at first thrilled, then annoyed. The baby seemed to be nocturnal, kicking and pushing at all hours of the night until just before dawn he would go still as a rabbit trying to hide from a predator.

Mikata began conducting weekly examinations of Izayoi and the growing child. She palpated Izayoi's belly after her warm baths and pressed her ear to the skin, straining to listen.

"He has a very strong heartbeat," she commented in her old, gravelly voice. "And you say he is already very active?" Mikata always referred to babies as _he_, probably to reassure nervous mothers, but it made Izayoi paranoid, as if Mikata knew her secret and had been there when Inutaisho predicted a son by way of prophetic dreams—or perhaps talking to the dead.

This continued for weeks and gradually Izayoi suspected that Mikata had indeed learned the truth, gleaning the knowledge from the child itself. Izayoi's own baby had betrayed her. But Mikata did not say anything and there were no suspicious looks from the other women or from Yuki. Takemaru did not descend to execute her for her betrayal. Instead Mikata only hinted at her knowledge by staring at Izayoi with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, and then over time, she started with barbed statements like, "He is so strong for his age!" and "Lady Izayoi is enormous for only being four months along!"

Yuki, apparently too simple to catch the insinuation in these comments, only smiled and praised Izayoi for her strength.

Then one day Yuki was ill and did not come to wait on and serve Izayoi. Mikata performed her usual examination of Izayoi after the bathwater had softened her skin. After she had gone through most of her questions and taken note of the child's steady growth, she paused and looked about Izayoi's dressing room, then to the open door and the silent hallway beyond. Finally she looked at Izayoi for a long time before Izayoi at last lost her patience and demanded, "What's the matter, healer? There must be something you wish to tell me."

Mikata cleared her throat and murmured in a quiet voice, "This child is not your husband's."

Izayoi feigned outrage at once though she could feel her face flaring a brilliant red, betraying her just as the child had. "How dare you say something so insulting! Who else might this child belong to?"

Mikata's face creased with a dark smile. "Perhaps to the dog demon lord they call Inutaisho."

Izayoi opened her mouth to object but Mikata raised her hands, cutting Izayoi off. "There is no point in you denying it, my lady. This child is advancing at an impossible rate. It is both too old and too fast to be Takemaru's. If this child were another man's I would not be able to be certain of the difference, but this child is unusual. It is clearly not human. Any healer with knowledge of babies and pregnant women would know after one examination. I have known for weeks, but I will never tell."

Izayoi was breathing hard and fast with panic, and the relief that swamped her at Mikata's last words was almost enough to make her faint. After a few moments, long enough for her to recover her breath, Izayoi asked, "Why? What do you want in return for your silence?"

Mikata scowled, offended. "I ask for nothing, my lady. I am a healer. All life is sacred to me, but I had hoped to ask you about this child much sooner. You know, there is no reason why you must birth it. I can arrange its death—but I can see from your behavior that it is as precious to you as your own life." She paused and her frown eased. "I have always admired the bravery of life-givers. I did not have the courage myself to face the danger and so I never experienced the wonder. But I cannot understand you, Lady Izayoi. Why are you taking such a risk?"

There was no palpable reason to trust the old healer, but Izayoi felt in her gut and heart the first chance among humans to divulge the truth without the fear of death and despair. She sensed that this healer was her salvation, her protector in this dangerous, foreign world of intrigue and drama.

Unexpectedly, tears filled her eyes and Izayoi choked on nothingness, on mere air. "I loved him."

Mikata nodded and her mouth loosened, her eyes pinched with sympathy. "Poor girl."

"No," Izayoi leaned forward with passion. "Don't pity me. I am not feebleminded, I am not insane. I am not deluded. Lord Inutaisho was the best man I have ever known. He was beautiful, a gentle and gifted lover. He treated me with the utmost dignity and respect." She hesitated and then plunged ahead, ignoring the consternation she saw on the old woman's face. "He treated me so much better than I am treated here. I will always choose him over Takemaru. And this child—" She broke off and looked down at her open robe, at the swell of her abdomen where the child slept soundly. "—_his_ child, his son, I would never kill. I will die for him if I have to—" Her throat seized up, closing. She fell silent.

Mikata nodded reverently. "You may be the bravest and most foolish mother I have ever seen," she muttered. "But I will honor what you have told me. But you know there is no chance you will keep the truth hidden when the child arrives."

Izayoi dropped her head and her shoulders slumped. She stroked her belly with both sadness and longing. "I have feared as much. Please…what do you know? Can you help me save him?"

"You do not care about yourself?" Mikata asked with surprise.

"No," Izayoi said, shaking her head. "I will never be happy while I am away from my dearest. The husband of my heart and my soul."

Mikata shook her head, baffled by Izayoi. "I can save you or I can save the child. There is no in between. One of you will almost certainly perish."

"Tell me what you can do for us," Izayoi said, closing her eyes to stop the threat of tears and to hide her own fear.

"I have seen three half-breeds between human and demon kind before," Mikata revealed. "Never before have I seen a dog demon's spawn, but I have seen kitsune babies born to women who were seduced by fox spirits. These babies could not pass as the children of mankind. They had tails, fox ears, paws, and hair the color of fire. Each was a different combination. I have never seen one born that only resembled the mother. I am afraid the same will almost certainly be true for you. The babies are born looking more demon than human. No one who sees the infant will be able to believe it was Lord Takemaru's. The truth will be as clear as sunlight. So if you choose to bear this child and a maid or other servant aside from me sees him you will be doomed. Word will spread."

"But the baby?" Izayoi asked.

"I can find someone who will be sympathetic to your plight. I know some demon slayers who have made alliances with demon kind before. They will know what to do with your baby. They will take the baby to his father or they will raise him. Either way he will survive, but you will not know him."

It was a terrible truth, a bitter realization. Izayoi let out a strangled sob and covered her mouth to stop more, but she could not halt the tears.

"I can try to save you," Mikata went on. "I can claim the child was deformed, or that it died. None of the men will want to see it to be certain. If I can keep you secluded during the birth, it may be possible to convince everyone that that is the truth. But it is more likely that someone will see, or that they will suspect the truth. If someone sees the demon slayers…" Mikata sighed and lifted her hands in a shrug of helplessness. "You will be at Takemaru's mercy."

"I understand," Izayoi breathed. "That is my only choice." She opened her eyes and, impulsively, embraced the old woman, hugging her as close as her belly would allow. "Thank you."

Mikata let out a short, grunting laugh. "I will not lie, my lady. I think you are crazy. You would be better off to kill the child and try to conceive with Takemaru."

Izayoi pulled away and shook her head. "No, I could never do that. This baby is precious. I will never sacrifice it. I can't."

Mikata sucked air through her teeth. "You know they say the Lord of the West is a captive in his own castle. They say that soon the demons will be at war with themselves and these lands will pass into the hands of the humans, or be consumed by the dragon Ryukotsusei's fire. Fate seems to think your child will never see its father, and you will never see him again either. There is little point in preserving this child's life. He will not thank you for it."

"Inutaisho desired this child," Izayoi protested. "He would take me back if only I could escape this place."

Mikata scowled. "I meant the child. The child will not thank you. You understand that no matter who raises him, he will not have a happy life. He will belong nowhere." She leaned close and whispered, "The fox children I saw birthed were all killed as toddlers or infants. Your child will be the same. He will have nothing but enemies."

"Please," Izayoi said, stiff with the effort of restraining her mounting grief. "Don't tell me anything else…"

Mikata sighed. "I pity you but you and your child will be in my prayers."

"Thank you," Izayoi muttered, but there was nothing but despair in her heart.

* * *

Inutaisho  
(Note to Sesshomaru)

_I am at your mercy. _

_Forgive me. _

Sesshomaru  
(Response to Inutaisho)

_This Sesshomaru will meet you in Nejiro Castle's courtyard. _

_

* * *

_

As the cold weather set in and the mountain passes became generally impassable, Sesshomaru retreated for a lengthy visit with his mother in Kagetsu palace. Shiroihana probed him for details about Inutaisho, of his attempts to reconcile or plot escape. Sesshomaru had nothing of detail to report. For several weeks Inutaisho had been silent. No messengers came out of Nejiro seeking Sesshomaru, pleading that the heir of the Western Lands take pity on his father and break the stalemate.

Inutaisho's letters had been bad enough for Sesshomaru, now the silence was worse. It was difficult to imagine Inutaisho giving up, so of course the next suspicion of mother and son was that Inutaisho had turned his mind and energy to some other method of escape.

"The kitsune are all loyal?" Shiroihana asked after Sesshomaru had explained the situation to her. "He hasn't bought them, has he?"

"They are all accounted for," Sesshomaru assured her.

Shiroihana's eyes narrowed with hate. "He is a clever bastard," she spat. "He will not accept defeat."

"Winter will make it difficult for any travel," Sesshomaru said. It was impossible for humans to travel very far without succumbing to cold and snow, and as passes clogged up with snow they would become dead ends. But for an inuyoukai winter travel was an annoyance. It made slogging through the snow hard and slow going, and even inuyoukai could freeze to death if caught in a bad enough snowstorm, but overall most demons could travel year round if they wished to do so. Most did not bother because it was unpleasant, but if they were motivated enough—like Inutaisho…

Shiroihana stared at her son and Sesshomaru blinked and covered his own disquiet as he realized that his mother was frightened. They were sitting very close to one another, almost knee to knee inside the bright white blizzard scene of Kagetsu palace's winter audience room. He saw his mother's golden eyes skip over his features, watched her supple lips curl downwards with some tender, unspeakable emotion that was foreign to Sesshomaru and disturbing. He stared past her to the wall, banishing the small, weakened part of his soul that wanted to reach out to her, to hold her and be held. To let himself fall helplessly and hopelessly into her power and her annihilating maternal love. It was inappropriate, he thought, for a son to be so aligned with his mother.

But he had no choice. Inutaisho had never bonded with Sesshomaru as the young inuyoukai deserved.

"We must outsmart him," Shiroihana said. "Or he will kill us both. It no longer matters to him that you are his flesh and blood, or his heir. It is war between us," Shiroihana said with a solemnity that made Sesshomaru feel sick to his stomach. "There is no other option."

He wanted to disagree with her but couldn't.

"Whatever happens," Shiroihana went on, "you must be safe from death. You must outlive him and me as well. You are my bloodline, my heir, and the Western Lands will be yours."

Sesshomaru lowered his head, acknowledging the words, but he said nothing.

"You must play both sides," Shiroihana told him with sudden urgency. "You must be both ally and spy."

Sesshomaru scowled. "He will not believe me. He considers me your child, your son, your ally only."

Shiroihana shifted with growing excitement. "He is easily manipulated if you know what he wants and what he will trust. We must control him through the winter with a careful deception."

Sesshomaru could see that she had a plan and he both admired her intelligence and determination, but also dreaded her ambition. He knew that she could be blind and did not understand Inutaisho as well as she thought she did, but he also knew that he did not understand Inutaisho either. Because Sesshomaru had no plan to go on, no way to control Inutaisho, he would defer to Shiroihana.

"What is on your mind, Mother?"

* * *

Sesshomaru left Kagetsu palace the following morning, going back the way he had come. He arrived back at Nejiro almost a full day later and Daken at once reported that nothing important had happened in his absence. Sesshomaru acknowledged the news with a slight nod of his head and then said, "Daken, I need you to make a journey to Kagetsu to visit with Mother."

Daken frowned. Unlike Sesshomaru, who was specifically called to see Shiroihana periodically, Daken had never left Nejiro since becoming one of Inutaisho's jailers. Although no one dared say it aloud, all four inuyoukai and many of the kitsune had figured out that Shiroihana did not entirely trust her son to guard his father. What son could resist his father's praise and begging and promises? What son could completely close his heart and mind? None doubted Sesshomaru's strength and intelligence, but they also perceived his weakness emotionally, his unstable position, the balancing act between parents that was now in turmoil.

To combat this weakness in Sesshomaru, Shiroihana had assigned Daken as a sort of spy and guard against Sesshomaru's inclination to hear his father out, or to give in. To be successful, Daken was never to leave Nejiro—especially not when Sesshomaru was there.

Daken's face was hard but expressionless. He bowed. "I'm sorry, my lord. I cannot do as you command. I am Lady Shiroihana's servant and her orders were never to leave Nejiro unless it was with you."

"These are her orders," Sesshomaru said impassively. He reached into his robes, beneath the plush white fur that wrapped like a snake around one shoulder, and produced a short letter that he handed to Daken.

Daken scanned the letter quickly, recognizing Shiroihana's calligraphy and her signature. Slowly he nodded and bowed. "Very well." He hesitated and then leaned forward, dropping his voice. "Be careful, Lord Sesshomaru. I cannot fathom what Lady Shiroihana is planning but…"

"Don't concern yourself with it," Sesshomaru told him blankly. "Do as you are commanded."

While Daken made every effort to spread word around that he was going away—and he wasn't happy about it—Sesshomaru contemplated what he knew of Shiroihana's plan himself. As Daken had said, even Sesshomaru did not quite understand what his crafty, sometimes cruel mother planned. Ostensibly she wanted to control Inutaisho by offering him a sort of white flag. To pretend that he might have some hope of escape—through Sesshomaru. Word would travel to Inutaisho that Daken had left and Shiroihana was betting that her ex-husband would try to test his son's loyalty by approaching him, or summoning him.

"If he doesn't," Shiroihana had said with a frown, "then we will be in dire danger."

If Inutaisho did not fall for this ploy, or if he did not feel that it was the break he'd needed, then he probably had a plan of his own that would spell doom for Shiroihana and Sesshomaru alike.

Sesshomaru waited in the cold, frozen road through the mountains that led to Nejiro. He fretted internally but externally he was as expressive as a rock. Daken had only been gone a few hours when a kitsune approached Sesshomaru, bowing deeply for his pardon, and passed a sloppily written letter to him.

_I am at your mercy,_ it read. _Forgive me. _

The bit of paper was small, little more than a snippet. Sesshomaru replied formally, struggling to fit all of the characters onto the back of the paper before he passed it to the kitsune. He waited another hour before moving toward Nejiro castle. The gates were opened for him by human servants who gawked and stared. They knew the importance of this event as well as anyone else.

Sesshomaru strolled through Nejiro's enormous open courtyard, crunching snow beneath his booted feet. The decorative cherry and maple trees were covered in a delicate flourish of white snow, but servants had cleared narrow paths between the trees. Sesshomaru walked through the courtyard as if simply visiting to admire the natural beauty of the place. There was no sign of Inutaisho and he was beginning to think he had made a mistake by so readily proposing a meeting.

"Don't meet him too quickly," Shiroihana had said. "Let him invite you first or he will suspect this as a trap."

At last Sesshomaru felt his father's presence, a heavy, powerful aura that approached slowly, the way a cautious prey animal moves through the open while it knows predators are about. Sesshomaru did not look at his father directly but he did stop, listening and waiting, with his head upright and his shoulders tensed. Both father and son were dressed in full war regalia, complete with armor and weapons. Sesshomaru's own blades were no match for Inutaisho's, but they would do in a simple swordfight with many lesser opponents.

Inutaisho did not come any closer than a hundred feet. Sesshomaru stood in the middle of the line of decorative, snowy trees while Inutaisho stayed at the edge, closer to Nejiro's looming, towering castle walls. For several minutes they were like two cats, pretending the other does not exist, that they were alone enjoying the pristine, chilled beauty of the winter.

Then Inutaisho broke their silence, shouting with anger and desperation through the still air. "Every day I am trapped here while that damnable dragon tears apart my lands. I have had enough!"

Sesshomaru turned, pivoting in a deliberately slow, calculated move until he faced his father. The distance between the two was far enough that neither could move—even at their fastest speeds possible—and attack the other with a deadly blow. There would be time enough for the defender to parry or evade or run. However, if Inutaisho pulled out a blade and used that instead of his own claws—Sesshomaru would almost certainly perish.

Shiroihana had encouraged Sesshomaru to say very little, to appear conflicted and reluctant—neither emotion was difficult for Sesshomaru to portray because they were truly how he felt. Yet now, facing his father, Sesshomaru also felt _anger._ And it was anger that fueled his words, completely bypassing any cunning, calculating part of his brain.

"This is a prison of your own making, Father."

"Really?" Inutaisho asked, growling. He took a threatening few steps forward as he raged, "I suppose you will counsel me to kill you and the kitsune and anyone who stands in my way—and never mind if Izayoi dies for it! Is that it? Is that what you came here to tell me, Sesshomaru? That is what _you_ would do, is it not?"

Sesshomaru scowled for half a second, wounded and enraged and—surprised. He had not given his father's human lover much thought or concern. In fact, he had done his best to put her completely from his mind. It was galling—disgusting and insulting—that Inutaisho saw his own imprisonment as about the girl, not about his own failure to his _true_ mate and his _true_ son. Inutaisho was shortsighted and selfish, even delusional if he thought Shiroihana and Sesshomaru behaved as they did to punish him for a short-lived, ratty human bitch.

"This Sesshomaru would not have made enemies of his own family," he called out in a cold, stony voice. "This Sesshomaru would not turn away his own heir and wife."

"Damn you!" Inutaisho howled. "I did not make you an enemy! I did not make _her_ my enemy! She has done both of those things for me!" He cursed vehemently in Chinese and the words came out sounding like a growled, slurring bark. "Damn that bitch to hell!"

_He cannot see me,_ Sesshomaru thought and was ashamed of his own deep, aching pain—loss and regret. _It is always about Mother. He cannot see that he has wounded me, that he has made me his enemy by doubting me._

Shiroihana had said, "Through all your reluctance you must offer some hope. Make him think you can be convinced, that you are vulnerable and could be made to betray me. Tell him that the stupid little human girl he thinks he loves is safe and that the abominable child she's carrying will be cared for as well. That will calm him and make him trust you."

Sesshomaru could see how right Shiroihana had been to make this plan, but he doubted his own ability to pull it off believably. He searched himself, looking for something true and appropriate, but also vulnerable, something raw and naked that Inutaisho would be unable to dismiss and unprepared for. Once he cast for it, Sesshomaru found it with surprising ease.

"Do you condemn me as well, Chichiue?" he asked.

"You have betrayed me in the worst possible way," Inutaisho said, growling. In the stillness of the winter day it was as if he had spoken the words directly into Sesshomaru's ears. "Do you know, Sesshomaru, Izayoi constantly asked me to spare you, to give you another chance? She could see nothing but good in you and I was foolish enough to believe her." He paused and then took three steps forward. His gait was stiff with a challenge but Sesshomaru did not retreat even one step.

"I believed her and allowed you to live and now I am suffering for that decision, and so is she. But I believed because I wanted it to be true. Are you my son, Sesshomaru? Or are you a vengeful spirit, reborn?"

Sesshomaru did now take a step backward. He shook his head, disturbed—almost frightened—by his father's radical change. He knew enough of his parents' past to understand vaguely that Inutaisho was thinking of Sesshomaru's namesake, Shiroihana's younger brother, but though it sent shivers through Sesshomaru's body, it also sickened and repulsed him. _I am my own being,_ he thought, _I am no other, nor have I ever been. _For a moment he had a flash of insight—if this had constantly been in the back of his parents' minds, the idea that their son was not really their child, but a reincarnation…it would have shaped _everything_ that had happened. _Everything._

He stared across the icy ground separating himself from his father and felt a deep, bitter anger boiling, transforming into hate. _How could you have believed such nonsense, Chichiue?_ If Inutaisho had always believed Sesshomaru was actually a reincarnation it explained his inability to love his son, to bond with Sesshomaru the way they should have. This thick, convoluted drama of his life, always at the center of two warring parents, sickened Sesshomaru almost to the point of retching.

But fast on the heels of his growing hatred for his father's foolishness, and his mother's manipulative cruelty, Sesshomaru had a new idea. _I am my own being, this soul is unique. I have only to prove it…_

"Ridiculous," Sesshomaru shouted, almost barking with his fury. "Do you hear yourself, Father?" He demanded this informally, almost rudely.

Inutaisho shifted his weight, crunching snow and ice beneath his boots. "Enough of this," he snapped after a moment of silence. "I will not be a hostage in my own lands any longer. You have come here to meet with me at last. Will you kill me, Sesshomaru, if I leave here to slay Ryukotsusei?"

Sesshomaru began walking slowly forward. "I came to meet with you today, Chichiue, to tell you that I am independent of Mother's will. I will not oppose you if you leave here—but Mother's spies will kill the girl should you leave without Mother's blessing."

"You could stop them," Inutaisho blustered, suddenly desperate, overwhelmed. His body language changed, becoming defensive as Sesshomaru slowly but surely began to close the distance between them. "But you are Shiroihana's slave."

"Speak what you truly believe," Sesshomaru yelled, breaking the calm, dispassionate tone he had used before. "This one is not your son. This one is seeking power. Power and vengeance."

Inutaisho spluttered and began to back away, yielding to his son's advancement. It was not as it had been a century or more ago when father and son had faced one another. Now they were more evenly matched. Sesshomaru did not have the same level of experience but he was a physical match in demonic strength, stamina and mass. With claws on claws father and son would likely kill each other, matched for speed, power, and inborn skill. But there was another element to this interaction, a non-physical one. Inutaisho might not have yielded ground to Sesshomaru's advancement if not for the unsettling suggestion of the paranormal.

"Have you come here to kill me then?" Inutaisho demanded, bristling. He held his clawed hands out from his sides, readying to grab up his swords.

Sesshomaru paused, stopping his forward motion, assessing his father's will and intention. He thought he could see Inutaisho's instability, his frustration and franticness. Inutaisho was a dangerous beast in his prison, driven mad by threats to his lover, an unborn child, and the very integrity of his lands. He would kill Sesshomaru if pushed too far. Dimly, Sesshomaru recalled his mother's plot and decided it fit the moment and his own separate desire to prove himself as a solid, third entity in this battle of wills.

Sesshomaru said, "Everything Chichiue has believed of this one is wrong."

"Then why are you here?" Inutaisho raged, snarling.

"I have come to offer help," Sesshomaru said, trying to sound confident and bold, not as if he was lying. "And to counsel you to be patient." He paused, knowing that the next words were the clincher, the only convincing part of his false speech, the seed his mother wanted planted. "The girl is safe, as is…" Sesshomaru nearly lost his voice trying to say it without disgust, "…your son."

Inutaisho was breathing hard and fast, still ready to attack. "That's not enough. I know that bitch. She would send you to do something like this…"

Sesshomaru snapped, "Mother did send me—but I am here because it suits my needs as well."

"And what is it that you need?" Inutaisho asked, though his tone indicated he thought he already knew.

Sesshomaru raised his chin proudly. "I desire power. This one will no longer ally himself as the underling of Shiroihana and Inutaisho. I seek my inheritance as Chichiue's son. I seek Tetsusaiga and Sounga."

"Then you do seek my death," Inutaisho muttered with a dark solemnity. He was still for a moment and then he began to walk forward as Sesshomaru had done before, slowly, passing like a phantom through the rows of decorative trees. "I will make a deal with you, Sesshomaru. I will bequeath you all of my swords. You will gain my title, my castle, everything. In return I ask that you free me from this prison so that I may kill Ryukotsusei to save the Western Lands."

"Agreed," Sesshomaru said, nodding once. Those were easy, simple terms, something he already wanted to do. Regardless of what he thought of his father, Sesshomaru wanted to save the Western Lands from further destruction while Shiroihana wanted only to see them burn.

"But there is something else as well," Inutaisho said. He had come now within ten feet of Sesshomaru. Father and son watched each other with tense, wary stances.

Sesshomaru said nothing, waiting to hear what his father's next terms were.

"You must allow me to rescue Izayoi and her child. And if I should perish fighting Ryukotsusei then I pass that responsibility on to you, Sesshomaru. _You_ must see to it that Izayoi and her child are left somewhere safe, where they can grow old in comfort and peace. You must promise—swear—that you will never kill either Izayoi or her child. You must protect them both from your mother."

Sesshomaru sensed a trap, hidden in this promise. He hesitated, considering it, and then asked, "And if Chichiue survives the battle with the dragon and rescues the girl—what assurance does this Sesshomaru have that Chichiue will not simply kill Mother and myself?"

Inutaisho grunted and grinned, a hard and mirthless expression. "If I should survive the dragon and the rescue then I will submit myself to you, Sesshomaru. You can be my executioner."

"Very well," Sesshomaru murmured.

"And if you break your vow," Inutaisho said with a suddenness that make Sesshomaru look up and blink. "Then I will become your executioner. We will fight to the death, you and I. And if I should be victorious there, I will also kill your mother."

Sesshomaru fought to keep himself from frowning, from acknowledging the bitter, angry, hurt heart beating in his chest from sinking. _I have tried to prove myself as unique, but pointlessly. All that he sees is a recurrence of the past._ But for Sesshomaru it was an exercise in stupidity, in futility, in waste. Inutaisho would survive the battle with the dragon—after all, he was powerful beyond compare in all of the Japanese islands. And rescuing Izayoi would be easy as soon as he knew where she was, something Sesshomaru would have to supply him with. But if Shiroihana arranged the girl's death, something Sesshomaru suspected she would at least attempt to do, then the deal would fall apart, disintegrating into a war that Sesshomaru would probably lose without possessing his father's powerful blades.

But there was no choice.

Sesshomaru nodded at his father. "Very well. It is agreed."

* * *

Endnote: I am slowly molding everyone into what we see in the beginning of the third Inuyasha movie. It won't be long now. Also, as a **side note** I have had a couple people requesting more stories with Saya, Masu, and especially Koinu I think. What's the feeling out there? This saga is wrapping up pretty quickly...


	31. Falling Into Place

A/N: Sorry for my tardiness...class and working all the time, writing so many different things...Trying to be published...getting lots of rejections. Bah, bah, bah. Being married too. So little time!

Disclaimer: I do not own them

Last Chapter: Sess and IT made a pact with one another. Sess will reveal Izayoi's location to IT and allow him to fight the dragon. In exchange for this IT will abdicate and pass on his swords and his title. Or so the plan goes anyway...

* * *

"I looked up and I saw the moon  
is it the same one that betrayed you?  
I looked up and I saw my place  
I looked in and I found no hate.

Where do I put the love?"

"Here" by VAST

* * *

Shiroihana

There are places, creatures, and beings in this world that have not yet been explained, nor will they be. As for myself, I do not presume to have the right to possess any of the secrets of the universe. But when useful knowledge passes my way I record it and save it, just in case I should need it someday.

Perhaps you recall that when we first began this tale, all this useless chatter about my deceased husband—the Inu no Taisho that all the poets and writers go on and on about—I revealed that I played a large and previously hidden role in his infamous death. I do not describe it as tragic of course the way many would. It was merely…

A proper word escapes me, but the closest I can think of to describe his flight from our world of the living would be _timely._ He left this world with the correct timing. I know that he doesn't agree with me, but he does not resent me for it either. He was a veteran of life and war, tarnished by it in the same way that the spring leaves are by the arrival of fall. Every life has its seasons, and Inutaisho's lasted long enough.

Where was I? Oh, yes. My role in his death is a quiet secret between the two of us. I know my son has uncovered some amount of the truth, or at least he has his suspicions, but I will never tell him this secret about his father. Just as I have never shared the secrets of Inutaisho's origins with Sesshomaru, so now do I leave out certain specifics of his death.

I do not harm Sesshomaru by restricting this information. It is for his benefit that he believes his father ailed on his own, that the change of the seasons came naturally, without the use of magic to speed fall into the death-season of winter. It Sesshomaru knew of my role in his father's death—that I orchestrated it from start to finish—well, I am sure he would feel slighted, unhappy that I could not trust in his strength.

I do trust in my son's strength. He is a far finer creature than his father. He has a beautiful soul and the blood of the strongest inuyoukai these islands—as well as the Mainland and this entire tiny world—had ever seen.

But we are as ants to Fate. I saw the direness of the times, of the dangerous line Sesshomaru and I walked in the years before Inutaisho's death, and I could not gamble. I could not bear the thought of Fate stealing away my brother's soul and my son's flesh. I refused to sit back and underestimate Inutaisho or Fate. I took destiny into my own hands and shaped it to fit my needs.

How I did it I will not relay here. You are not intelligent enough to understand the tale, and I doubt you are even capable of comprehending what I've told you of my motives. Besides, you mortals with your short lives and loudmouths will have little more to do with your time than breed like the rats you are and whisper my words as if I were a god.

Well, my ancestors were renowned as Goddesses, so perhaps you foolish mortals are right in that.

I have strayed from my topic again. Ah, yes, Inutaisho's death. No doubt you are anxious to ask me about it. You have all heard the traditional tale as written by writers and poets, as sung and portrayed by actors. How does it go again? Yes—daring, brave Inutaisho engages the terrible, destructive dragon Ryukotsusei. The battle is fierce and never seems to end. Inutaisho has met his match! He cannot kill this foe, even with all the power of all _three_ of his magical swords!

I'm sorry. It's simply ridiculous. To think that you fools believe this story wholeheartedly! Isn't the truth obvious? It is to one of us. To Sesshomaru it was clear. Well, never mind it.

He cannot kill Ryukotsusei, but he tries valiantly and eventually seals the mighty dragon with a fang, imbedded in the dragon's enormous chest. After this battle he is exhausted and heavily wounded. He might have survived if he had rested, but rather than think of himself Inutaisho dashes off to rescue his lover and their child—that ratty, filthy half breed. I can't remember his name. I'm sure you recall it.

And that is how the story ends. Inutaisho saves his mortal lover and their child and dies of his wounds in that struggle. That is the history you have been force fed and believed like the simpleton fools you are.

This story has no mention of myself in it, but that is the missing element. You believe that it was the terrible battle with the dragon that mortally wounded Inutaisho, that brought him to his ultimate death. You are wrong.

Inutaisho was dead at my hands some time earlier.

I know that you will never believe me. I may be inuyoukai but I am merely a weak-willed woman, a female, am I not? Believe what you will. Inutaisho knows the truth and he took it with him to his grave.

* * *

**Falling into Place**

While Sesshomaru met with Inutaisho and began to forge a haphazard alliance as Shiroihana had ordered, the exiled inuyoukai queen was anything but idle herself. Daken was the first visitor she had after Sesshomaru left.

The old, awkward inuyoukai, lowborn but infallibly loyal, sought her out while she was lingering in the open air of the northern terrace. The wintery air was thick as it always was with fog. It concealed shapes and obscured sound, but Daken's armor was loud and clanked on his approach. Whether Shiroihana heard him or not she would have known he was coming—his aura was too familiar for her to miss his presence.

She was leaning against the carved wooden railing, barefoot except for her thin white socks. Snow and ice lined the edges of the terrace walkway and railings. The geckos, being coldblooded, could not stand the cold long enough to clear the terrace properly. And the monkeys were lazy creatures, fond and pampered by warmth. Shiroihana had been entertaining herself with plans for whipping the monkeys for their negligence with the snow and ice when Daken approached her and dropped into a low, formal bow.

She smiled with warmth and she turned her head and stared down at his shape, hazy in the fog. After years of service Daken had changed little from her first memories of him when she had been unmarried and new to the throne. Now she was exiled, stripped of her ancestral position and she would never reclaim it.

_That is for my granddaughters,_ she thought and closed her eyes with sadness, a deep and tearless grief at the chance that she might not live to see them, to pick one to finally reclaim the Kosetsu's female line. The next true Queen.

She had toyed with the idea of breaking her promise to Sesshomaru—her brother and her son—that only his daughters would succeed her, and she had been punished for it. Her affair with Koshoshiro had estranged her from Sesshomaru and had finally brought her marriage to Inutaisho to an end. And it had brought her no daughters. She had sacrificed them to save herself and to appease the slighted Sesshomaru.

When she tried to picture her brother's face it was dim, unclear, as if obscured by the fog in the physical world around her. _Is this the right path, Little Brother?_ Overlaying her memory images of her brother were fresh, vivid scenes of her son. One and the same and yet so different as well.

"Lady Shiroihana," Daken said, at last running short of patience.

"Yes?" she asked, sighing.

"I have come as you ordered." He paused and then asked hesitantly, "You did summon me, didn't you?"

Shiroihana turned and looked at his expression. He was smirking, a hard, nervous amusement. Shiroihana returned his humorous smile with a grin of her own. "Of course I did. Everything is going to plan."

"My lady," Daken murmured. "What is the plan?"

Gratitude swam through her, making Shiroihana's shoulders slump with relaxation. This was why she had asked for Daken. It matched her plans through and through. Not only did it set the scene for Sesshomaru and Inutaisho to meet conspiratorially as they must to ensure Inutaisho's death and Sesshomaru's survival, but it also brought Daken legitimately to Shiroihana alone, without Sesshomaru's suspicion.

She could not trust her son to be involved in this conspiracy of death. It would insult him and it might sentence Shiroihana to death if Sesshomaru truly sided with Inutaisho. Shiroihana could not allow that to happen, not only for selfish reasons, but because she did not trust Inutaisho to get along with Sesshomaru, to honor his son the way that Shiroihana knew she would.

No, the one who had to die was Inutaisho. It was the only sure way for Sesshomaru to become Lord of the Western Lands.

And most importantly, it was the only way that Shiroihana could preserve her ancient heritage. The Kosetsu province would one day reemerge as powerful, regal Goddess-Queens. If Inutaisho survived with Sesshomaru he would never tolerate Shiroihana's wish that Sesshomaru set aside a daughter to inherit the Kosetsu as a separate province. The Kosetsu would be lost to eternity.

To Daken she said, "This is something you cannot share with my son. Do you understand? You serve me above anyone else."

Daken did not look away and he did not smirk. His features were solemn, his eyes worshipful. Shiroihana knew he would die for her, pluck out his own eyes if she commanded it. "I have always understood that, my lady," he said. "Unquestionably. I am in your service until death."

Shiroihana nodded with satisfaction. "Very well. I need several things to be gathered covertly."

Daken cocked his head. "What sort of things?"

Shiroihana picked absently at a small clod of ice and snow, hard and crunchy. Her claws cut easily through it nonetheless. "I need a concentration of spiritual power. The kind that purifies youkai. A strong enough variant that it could burn one as powerful as myself."

Daken shook his head. He was still on his knees, subservient and infinitely patient. "I'm afraid I don't have any idea where to find that type of thing, my lady."

Shiroihana smiled, closed lipped and dark. "It is a rather grim task. It would take thousands, perhaps even millions of blessed objects, scrolls and the like to reach the strength I need—but I'm afraid I don't have time for that."

Daken, clever in spite of his low-birth, caught her meaning quickly. "It is not enough that I collect bits and pieces of spiritual willpower as used in spells. Lady Shiroihana is saying I need their _flesh._"

"No," Shiroihana said, shaking her head. "Their souls." She paused and flicked off the clod of ice and snow altogether with an easy snap of her fingers. "There are many demons who specialize in soul-gathering. There are even a large number of demons who enjoy the souls of miko priestesses and Shinto priests and even monks as delicacies of a sort." She curled her lips with disgust at the thought. "Your task is to find a way to bundle them safely once you have _convinced_ these other soul-devourers to hand over their harvests."

"This task may take some time, my lady," Daken murmured.

"We will have some of the kitsune attend to it, as well. But only a few. This mustn't be noticed by Sesshomaru or—"

"I understand," Daken said, dropping his head in respect.

Shiroihana drew in a breath and continued, "I also require an herb."

Daken's eyebrows raised with curiosity and surprise. "An herb?"

"Yes, perhaps two. Ginger and turmeric."

Daken scowled with immediate distaste. "Those are human _spices._"

"They are also herbs," Shiroihana replied swiftly, eyeing Daken. He had been completely willing to take on a task involving strength and intimidation, but he was not inclined toward more academic pursuits. None of the sciences or arts of healing and human cooking interested him. It was vital that he accurately find the herbs she'd mentioned. "Listen to me carefully," she said. "Those two herbs are as vital to my plans as the purifying energy I requested. One element alone would weaken him, but two will certainly prove fatal in the upcoming fight."

"My lady?" Daken asked, smirking with nervousness. "You intend this concoction to…"

"Don't hesitate to say it," Shiroihana said, sighing with satisfaction. "The more often something is said the more concrete it becomes. And this is one thing we must make true." She paused and then began stroking her hair, feeling the silky strands slowly with every finger. "I need these things delivered to me before the snows have melted from the high passes. In fact, I want them before the lowlands have lost their snow. Do you understand?"

Daken dropped his head in another bow. "I will go out and do exactly as you have asked as fast as I can—but, my lady, without me to accompany Lord Sesshomaru there is a risk…"

Shiroihana frowned lightly. "It doesn't matter what side Sesshomaru truly plays on any longer. Inutaisho is already dead the moment you return with my ingredients. Now—_go."_

_

* * *

_

Izayoi

(Letter written in Chinese to Inutaisho)

Dearest,

I am well. I miss you every day. Our child is strong and healthy, as am I. No harm has come to me. I am safe, for now. I pray for your safety, for your return to me. It must be soon. You must come soon. When our child is born my life will be in great danger. A woman here, a doctor for mothers, has said she will help me. But I might not live.

She will take our child away to protect him. She says he will be with some demon slayers she knows. Please, if you cannot come for me, find our son. I do not know what to name him. A father should name a son. Please, if you can, send word to me. What shall he be called? That is the only thing I can give him before I lose him. Please, think of a name for our son. Name him for me.

When you come for me, if you do, please, take care with these humans. They have been good to me, in their own way. They do not deserve death. Not even Takemaru.

I am married to Takemaru. It was not my choice. I pray you will forgive me, Dearest. My heart is always with you.

Izayoi

* * *

The winter seemed especially bitter and cruel to Izayoi as the snows ran deep and the wind cut right through every layer of clothing. She was rotund with pregnancy, but her limbs were small and frail compared to the rest of her girth. The child was not unlike a parasite at times, seeming to rob her of nutrients and breath. Izayoi could only eat little amounts at a time. She constantly snacked at her meals and called for tea or vegetables or noodles at all hours of the day and sometimes the night. Any exertion left her winded and her joints and feet aching.

She tried to calculate how much longer she had to endure through the pregnancy but often became confused. There was the pregnancy as far as Takemaru and the other humans were concerned, and then there was the true count, but Izayoi had trouble remembering it. Her grief marred the days. Had she been taken from Nejiro in the early summer, midsummer, or late summer? Or was it already fall? It seemed the only thing she had known was fall and winter. The rest had only been a dream and then a nightmare.

The cold winter snow was reality.

The men visited just before the mountain passes closed for the winter season. They brought gifts and extra supplies to see their womenfolk through the harsh winter months. Takemaru spent two nights with Izayoi, embracing her and touching her, listening to and feeling her enormous belly. He was thrilled by it and declared it a healthy son. He could not wait to meet the child.

Izayoi pitied him. In spite of herself she had begun to welcome his touch, his embrace. She was not a creature meant for misery and despair. She was instead a being of change and adaptation. She endured. She survived. Sometimes she found herself wishing that the child truly was Takemaru's. It would be easy to settle into this position among the humans. It was pampered and gentle, although boring. But raising children would liven up the boredom. And how exciting it would be to watch her and Takemaru's children rise to power, growing strong and wise, regal in the eyes of the clan.

But that was an illusion—a delusion in fact. The Setsuna clan had despised Izayoi's clan the Miyabita. There had been territory disputes and wars. There were still members of the Setsuna clan who saw Izayoi as being barely human because she belonged to the Miyabita clan in birth.

And aside from this there was the inescapable fact of Izayoi's adolescence, spent with inuyoukai. It had colored her view of humanity, scarring it. She saw the inequality of power in the humans' social system. The way women were relegated to breeders and objects, tokens to be traded among men. Izayoi had been at the mercy, meanwhile, of a former queen of the inuyoukai. She had seen and read texts that the human women had never heard of, let alone seen or read. More than that these women would never be _allowed_ to read such things. The men simultaneously took pride in the beauty or usefulness of their women as well as resented them for it. They did not value intelligence or willfulness in their wives, sisters, or daughters. They did not counsel with them, ask for their advice, or offer to expand their horizons by offering them knowledge that was traditionally viewed as masculine.

Inutaisho had had no such reservations. He encouraged knowledge and education, and indulged Izayoi's desire to learn anything and everything. He had asked her advice and valued it. He had praised her for her wisdom and intelligence as well as for her beauty. To Inutaisho Izayoi had been an equal, a true partner.

To Takemaru she was a hobby. An acquaintance. Nothing more, nothing less.

But any companionship was nicer than none. Takemaru's visit was a bright spot just before the full onset of winter though there were elements of it she was desperate to ignore or avoid.

"Sumi tells me that our son will come in the springtime. A cherry-blossom baby," Takemaru said, grinning proudly.

Izayoi was sitting up on the futon with him, dressed only in a night robe. "He will be a beautiful baby, and lucky as well."

Takemaru did not notice her underlying sadness. He began to suggest names for the child, though the baby would not be named at birth. Because many infants did not survive into childhood it was common practice, even among wealthy warlords, not to name their children until the age of two. Yet there was no harm in considering possible names. Izayoi deferred to Takemaru and listened politely as he came up with names. Inwardly she was horrified that she did not have any demon names for the child, only human ones.

_Inutaisho should name him,_ she thought. But there was no way for her to know what Inutaisho would have chosen to name his hanyou son.

The men, including Takemaru, left in the early afternoon of their third day with the women. Takemaru held Izayoi close, petting her hair and kissing her neck. Izayoi smiled sweetly at him and bowed clumsily when she said her goodbyes in formal language.

"I will come again as soon as travel is possible," Takemaru assured her. "I will absolutely not miss his birth!"

"I look forward to the spring then, husband," Izayoi said, murmuring quietly.

This time Takemaru didn't miss her dark mood. He scowled. "What's the matter?" He didn't wait for her to finish before coming up with the answer himself. "You're afraid of the labor?"

That was true, among other things. Izayoi averted her eyes and nodded. "Yes."

"Don't be, Izayoi," Takemaru said with firmness. "You are the strongest woman I have ever known. I knew it was destiny, that I should marry no one else. I know you will survive it. We will have a whole army of sons!"

Izayoi stared at him for a moment, confused by her sense of déjà vu. She had heard this sentiment many times before. It seemed to be a mantra that was following her. _I know you will survive. You are the strongest human I know._ But Izayoi did not feel strong physically, but she was determined. Where her body might fail, her will would endure.

"Izayoi?" Takemaru asked when she didn't answer at once.

Izayoi shook her head and smiled. "I'm sorry. For a moment I was far away."

"Don't worry," Takemaru reassured her. "It will pass. Everything will work out."

* * *

After the men had left life resumed as usual. Izayoi huddled under covers and beneath layers of thick robes to stay warm. She had never been so cold before. Nejiro castle and Kagetsu palace were both magical places where Izayoi had only felt the cold in open balconies and terraces.

The women continued their communal practices of sewing and poetry. Izayoi, a quick learner, was beginning to catch up to them. Though Izayoi remained wary of what she said to them, and how she behaved, she began to connect with them. She pitied Shingi for her jealousy and unsatisfied longing. Musei was in her sister's shadow, but Izayoi appreciated the girl for her friendliness and fierce intelligence. Sumi was attentive and although not very talkative, she helped Izayoi almost as a maid would at times, calling for tea or lighting the brazier, or fetching another blanket or a different robe. Yuki, Izayoi's personal maid, was always a bubbly and loyal servant and Izayoi constantly appreciated her insight and frankness.

Rini had reclaimed some of her gentle nature after her tragic loss. She was wary of Izayoi but had stopped picking on her openly. A month after the men had left and the snow had settled in, Rini was ecstatic with the revelation that Ijimeru had left her with a new life. Her spirits lifted and she almost completely returned to the same vivacious, sweet natured woman that Izayoi had first met upon her arrival.

In private Yuki whispered conspiratorially that Rini's dead baby girl had been a gift from Heaven. Izayoi scolded Yuki for this thinking.

"How could you say that? She did not deserve that suffering. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Yuki dropped her voice into a harsh rasping breath. "Lady Izayoi! Are you blind? It has all been the will of Heaven! Lord Takemaru will take power over the clan. There will be a coup before summer, I am certain of it!"

"I want nothing to do with it," Izayoi muttered, closing her eyes in exhaustion. Her breasts were heavy, aching. Mikata had been concerned that her lactation had not started before this late in the gestation, but it had come on with a vengeance at long last.

"You are Lord Takemaru's wife! You are already in the thick of it," Yuki insisted. "You should keep your ears and eyes open, my lady. Death will be stalking you."

_Ijimeru will try to kill me. I will not let it happen. I must survive to give birth. Inutaisho's son must live even if I do not._ Izayoi gave in to Yuki's suggestions and asked for young men to be hired and stationed as guards to protect her from assassination. Yuki and Sumi volunteered to become taste-tester, eating and drinking from Izayoi's meals and tea before she did. But the depths of winter crawled past and there were no threats, no disturbances—except for one.

One night, as Izayoi was about to slip out of her daytime robes—several layers thick for warmth—movement flashed in her mirrors. She was alone in the small dressing room, or at least she had thought she was. Izayoi gasped and turned to look for an assassin dressed in black, but the source of her alarm was nothing more than a short young man, one of the guards she had asked to have hired. He wasn't supposed to be in her dressing room, especially not late at night, but Izayoi wasn't highly alarmed. One shout and someone would come to her rescue too quickly for this boy to harm her.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, irritated and tense. "Get out!"

The boy ducked his head in respect, and when he looked up Izayoi realized that his eyes were a bright green like grass. She covered her mouth with one hand, realizing that this was a demon of some kind in a clever guise.

"Don't cry out," the demon said, murmuring quietly. "I'm not here to hurt you." He smiled and his teeth were sharp like needles.

Izayoi shuddered and clutched her robes around her. "Who are you? What have you come for?"

"It doesn't matter who I am," the false-boy said. "But I think you'll be very grateful to have seen me." He grinned and reached inside his clothing, pulling out a small folded bit of paper. He handed it to Izayoi and stood by as she opened and read it.

The handwriting was clear and smooth, marking the intelligence and skill of the writer. It was in Chinese script, but simplified, as if written for someone who didn't know the language very well. Izayoi recognized the strokes, artful and deliberate, powerful and regal. Her eyes filled at once with tears and her heart felt as if her unborn son had reached up into her chest and squeezed her heart with his little fists.

"Thank you," she breathed, looking up at the demon messenger and shape shifter. There was no way that this letter was faked. No one else had known the exact level of Chinese script that Izayoi knew or did not know. There could be no other writer than Inutaisho.

The demon nodded. "In three days," he told her, "I will return and take back your reply to him. I will meet you with the same appearance, inside your room, at sunset." He paused a moment and then said, "Don't keep the letter. Burn it after you have read it. Take no chances."

Izayoi was speechless, breathless. When she looked down at the letter again, trying to think of anything else she needed to know from the messenger, a puff of air hit her. She looked up, blinking the tears from her eyes, and saw that the messenger was gone.

Unnerved but also delirious with happiness, Izayoi tucked the letter inside her under robe and quickly changed the outer robe into one suitable for sleep. She retreated to her room and dismissed Yuki and Sumi immediately, claiming that she was too tired to talk with them that night. After they had gone, Izayoi pulled out the letter and read it by the flickering light of the brazier.

_Izayoi,_

_I have made a deal with Sesshomaru. I will be able to escape. In a short time I will be able to rescue you. I do not know where you are, yet. I will find out, with Sesshomaru's help. I will protect you. _

_I love you._

The letter was unsigned, but Izayoi had no doubt who had written it. She had a thousand questions but had no way of getting answers. She heeded the demon's advice and burned the letter to ash, though it pained her to see it crinkle, blacken, and turn to dust. She cried into her blankets and futon mattress that night, in the sheltering depths of the black of her unlit room. She cried for the life she had lost, for the love she had shared—that had been stolen from her. The child, curled inside her, was both a consolation and a source of despair. It would be easy to wait for Inutaisho if her time were not limited by the growing child.

She sensed death and grief, closing in on her. She could not rid herself of the frightening thought that her son would be the only one to survive the coming disaster. She couldn't think of a worse outcome for a child like hers, hanyou, outcast. To be an orphan on top of that fate? _I am cursed, _Izayoi thought, _and I will pass it onto him. _

The baby would never know about his parents, never know that they had loved one another with an intensity to rival the sun. He would never know that his father had not seduced his human mother, and that Izayoi had not birthed him because she felt she had no other choice. He would never know that she had chosen death in order to give him life. He would never know how desperately he had been wanted and loved.

In the morning Izayoi went about her day as if everything was normal. She put aside these thoughts of despair and instead focused on what she would say in her letter back to Inutaisho. She would write it in a mixture of Japanese and Chinese, garbling the letter. By the time the deadline arrived, Izayoi had already planned the letter out, but not written it. At the planned time she excused herself from the rest of the women, feigning fatigue and illness, and quickly wrote out the letter. Then she waited in bed, dozing, until she came awake and saw the dark shape of the boy, lingering over her bed.

She sat up, her heart pounding at the sight of him, and thrust the letter at him. The room had just begun to grow dark. "You'll get it to him safely?" she asked.

The disguised demon nodded. "I will."

"When will you be back?"

The demon smirked darkly. "I won't be."

He vanished in a cloud of fog, thick and damp air. Izayoi swatted at it, annoyed and disturbed. She had hoped he would come with a return message, and surely Inutaisho would want to write back to her before the season was finished? His answer seemed ominous. She recalled Inutaisho's cryptic words: _I have made a deal with Sesshomaru._ She had the feeling that this was a messenger sent by Sesshomaru. The letter had been condoned by Sesshomaru then as well.

She looked to the shuttered screens on her bedroom windows and wondered what was going on out there, far away, on the other side of the Western Lands.

* * *

Shiroihana

(Letter to Sesshomaru)

My son,

The kitsune I have in the Takeyabu province have reported the presence of a messenger with questionable loyalties passing in their midst. I would like to assume that this is your doing? Are you bolstering Inutaisho's trust in you by passing messages to his human pet?

I hope this is all you have been doing—and nothing more. The girl is vital to controlling Inutaisho. If she is no longer in danger as a hostage against him, Inutaisho will kill us both and destroy everything we have worked to accomplish. You will never inherit the Western Lands from him then. Do you understand?

He must not get the girl. She must always be in our custody. No harm must come to her.

And whatever you do, do not allow Inutaisho to engage Ryukotsusei before the passes have cleared of their snow.

* * *

Shiroihana dismissed the kitsune messenger after he had made his report. She was outwardly cold, undisturbed as more reports filtered to her of strangers making the trip between the Takeyabu and Nejiro castle. Shiroihana was ever-watchful, constantly alert for signs that her plan would fail.

She had expected this behavior from Sesshomaru. It was one option he'd had of at least appearing to support his father over his mother. When she drafted one of her many letters to Sesshomaru, Shiroihana made certain to structure it in a way that sounded uncertain, as if she doubted the strength of her position. She added unnecessary phrases and questions, making her anxiety obvious. She had to assume that Inutaisho had spies of his own, or that some of her own kitsune would indeed turn on her or play both sides. Foxes were never completely trustworthy.

That was why she entrusted her greatest secrets only with Daken. His reports were constantly streaming in, cryptic and vague to hide their contents, but Shiroihana understood them well enough. He had already gathered the herbs she required in bulk. Messengers had come in through the wind and blowing snow, kitsune that panted and shivered with the cold. They carried sacks filled with roots and other plant parts, pungent smelling, completely repugnant to an inuyoukai's senses. Shiroihana took them and stored them away as if they were unimportant. Her food cellar stank of the herbs now, disgusting Shiroihana whenever she ventured down there, which was, luckily, a rare occurrence.

The spiritual energy would take far longer. Daken had investigated several soul-stealing demons that fed off humans, but they were weak and sniveling things that usually hauled in too small of a catch. They could not afford to share anything and still survive, and at any rate many of them avoided humans with spiritual energy. That was the problem, humans and demons operated on two very different levels of spirituality and when the two collided it was usually fatal for the demon.

Nature always had something to balance the scales, Shiroihana mused. Humans died and reproduced like rats, rapidly. As soon as they were born they were snuffed out again. Their life cycles were as rapid to Shiroihana as the passage of a single season. But for all their weaknesses and brief existences, they sometimes had the incorporeal power to overwhelm long-lived demons, vaporizing them with as little effort as the sun used to evaporate water from a lake.

Even Shiroihana had to respect spiritual power. And so did Inutaisho.

It was almost two months before Daken's messages to Shiroihana revealed success with her last required ingredient. He had found an unusual demon that operated a massive and luxurious spa, hidden away on the coastline of Eastern Japan. It was an insect youkai, but it was housed inside a human's body in a parasitic union. Daken's letters were fascinating and too brief. Shiroihana kept each one, storing it away carefully after reading it several times over.

This insect youkai had gladly welcomed Daken and shown him about his spa, explaining what he did, why, and what he could do for other demons. The insect-man, who called himself Master Jibyou, agreed to harvest the humans he had under his control for their spiritual powers in exchange for Daken's services. Jibyou did not leave his grounds, but often contracted others for him who kidnapped his victims—any human with spiritual powers. Daken agreed to capture and deliver as many humans as he could throughout most of the winter.

Shiroihana determined to learn more about this unusual demon when she had the time, but for now she did not care what he did to humans, only that he was able to help her accomplish her goal. Daken had estimated that it would be a close call, but Master Jibyou would be able to harvest several dozen spiritual humans, capturing some essence, some power from them.

Daken informed her that about once a week she would receive a small vial from a fox messenger containing concentrated spiritual energy, harvested by way of Master Jibyou's unique abilities, and distilled into a sort of slimy paste. Each vial contained several massive doses of spiritual energy, from multiple humans with such powers.

To test it, Shiroihana risked dabbing a finger inside one of the first vials that arrived. It burned immediately, as strong as an acid. The wound it left was inconsequential on Shiroihana's skin. It scabbed over and healed within a day. It was an impressive result nonetheless and Shiroihana wrote to Daken with praise and encouragement. Whatever this demon wanted, he should supply it. It was a good deal.

Yet Shiroihana was not content to leave her experimentation at self-exposure. She waited for one of her own youkai servants, underlings that Shiroihana never bothered to differentiate out as individuals, to make a simple mistake. When one of the geckos broke a teacup in midwinter, Shiroihana ordered the others to detain it—she could never tell whether the lizards were male or female—while Shiroihana forced the unlucky gecko to swallow half the contents of one vial.

The gecko squealed and writhed, dying almost immediately in a violent outburst. Shiroihana watched with satisfaction. If just half the vial was thoroughly toxic to the geckos than surely a dozen or two dozen vials by the end of winter would be enough to meet her particular needs.

Everything was falling easily into place.

There was just one point of her plan that Shiroihana was uncertain of—Izayoi. The human girl was valuable because of what she meant to Inutaisho, but at the same time Shiroihana wanted the girl dead. She hadn't expected Izayoi to survive her return to the humans. It astounded her that every report from the kitsune messengers was that Takemaru and all of the Setsuna clan were going about their business and had completely swallowed Izayoi's blatant lie.

Shiroihana had constructed Izayoi's return from the beginning with the certainty that the girl would get herself killed. She was too stupid to do anything else. Shiroihana wanted the girl dead to punish Inutaisho, and yet she could also see the girl's value alive.

Ultimately, Shiroihana wanted Izayoi dead—but she did not want the blood to be on her own claws. She knew the humans would kill Izayoi when the child was born. There would be no hiding the truth then. But at the rate that things were progressing, and with Shiroihana's own uncertainty in her son's loyalty, Shiroihana couldn't help but worry that Inutaisho might manage to reclaim the girl before the birth gave her away.

Izayoi had to be killed rather than risk the chance of her falling into Inutaisho's protective custody again. If she did, Inutaisho would kill Shiroihana and Sesshomaru to save his new child—a son according to the foxes. He would have no concern for the fact that if Sesshomaru died he would have no pureblooded heirs to replace him, only miserable, abominable hanyou children through Izayoi.

The situation was sticky and difficult to control but Shiroihana already knew exactly how she would manipulate to eliminate Izayoi without doing it herself.

She set out as soon as there was a break in the weather, as the first melts began. The high passes were still impossible to negotiate for humans, but Shiroihana managed them anyway. The mountain spaces were open and desolate, frigid and foreboding. Mist hung over the hollows between hills and over the flanks of mountainsides. The forest was disturbingly silent, uninhabited. Shiroihana passed like a phantom through it, evading human settlements.

It took a week but Shiroihana crossed the island, from west to east. In the Takeyabu she at last passed through human dwelling spaces, often at dusk or dawn, in poor lighting when she would not be seen properly. The few who saw her rambled about ghosts and stayed far away, averting their eyes until she had moved on.

She reached the Setsuna clan stronghold as night settled over the earth. The humans had already mostly bedded down. During the winter they traveled very little and mostly resorted to dormancy, living off food stores while they fended off the winter cold. Even so there were guards maintaining watch when Shiroihana approached the clan's stronghold. They moved out to block her path though Shiroihana would have had to have been blind to miss the fear in their eyes.

"Tell me," Shiroihana said, looking between them. "Do you want to die tonight?"

They refused to back down. Shiroihana admired their bravery, but found their stupidity disgusting.

"I am here to see Takemaru," she informed them, not bothering to use a title for him.

"What business does a demon have with our great Lord and General?" one of the guards demanded, sneering.

Shiroihana resisted the urge to slash out his throat with her claws. She smiled slightly, cold and unfeeling, and stroked the luxuriant fluff around her shoulders. "I have some vital information for him regarding his precious wife." When they still did not move or send someone for Takemaru, Shiroihana clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. "If you intend to stop me, humans, you will need a whole army just to intimidate me. If you do not step aside within the next minute I am going to lose patience with you and kill you both. I have no intention of harming anyone while I am here. I have merely come with information."

Reluctantly, both men escorted her, stiff and smelling of nervousness. Their armor clanked and clattered, annoying Shiroihana as they walked over the long courtyard with its decorative shrubs and little bonsai trees, all covered in a heavy, wet blanket of snow. The guards did not bring her inside; instead they took her to a small stone bench that had been cleared of snow. It was underneath a large maple, surrounded by a few boulders. Unlike the bench the boulders had been left with their white snowcaps intact.

Shiroihana waited impatiently as one of the guards left her to fetch Takemaru. She sat on the bench and rubbed her cheek against her white fluff-fur, taking pleasure and peace in the sensation. She did not occupy her mind with plans of what she would say to Takemaru when he arrived. The words would come easily when she needed them. She eyed the guard that had stayed to watch her, propelled by boredom.

"You, human," she called.

The guard's eyes, a dark brown, swiveled to look at her, but he said nothing. Shiroihana detected both intrigue and intimidation in his body language and his scent. She wondered for a moment what Inutaisho saw in these creatures that endeared them so much to him that he could become sexually aroused. Shiroihana saw nothing that sparked her interest similarly.

"Do you truly believe you have a chance of surviving a violent encounter with me?" she asked, teasing.

The man did not answer, but she picked out a quickening in his breath and smirked with amusement.

"You know," she went on, "I have often eaten humans who stray onto my lands. I have carved your kind's bones into playthings for my son to teethe on."

The guard was smart enough not to answer her as time wore on and Shiroihana continued tormenting him, provoking him. At long last, when Shiroihana was almost ready to kill the guard just for the sake of sheer entertainment, the second guard returned with Takemaru—and another man in tow.

The third man was a sibling of Takemaru's, she knew that before he was a hundred feet from her. Their scents were too close to be anything else. She bristled at this extra company and stood up from her bench, ready to kill the whole lot as Takemaru approached.

"You," Takemaru said as his only greeting. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Shiroihana motioned dismissively at the extra man, Takemaru's sibling. "What is _he _doing here? I came to see only you, fool boy."

Takemaru's breath hissed out through his teeth, a harsh sound. "My brother—Lord Ijimeru—insisted on coming to meet with you."

"Then he must have a problem with his ears," Shiroihana said, looking to Ijimeru with irritation. "I asked for one fool, not two of you."

"I am clan leader," Ijimeru replied calmly. He did not show any sign of the same temper that Takemaru possessed. "It is only appropriate that I meet with you, Lady Shiroihana."

_Well spoken,_ Shiroihana thought. She considered the dynamic of these two men, wondering if her information would prompt a different outcome if both men knew it at once. She sensed a rivalry, a tension…

_What do I care for their petty disputes? _

Shiroihana snorted, as if she had smelled something foul. She rolled her shoulders, loosening them, and stroked her fluff. "I have valuable information for you, something I felt you should know concerning Izayoi." She eyed them, allowing herself to reveal some of her dark entertainment at this topic.

Takemaru inhaled sharply, but Ijimeru revealed nothing.

The emotion in Takemaru's body, in his face, the mounting apprehension, delighted Shiroihana, though his stupidity dismayed her. Had he truly fallen for that idiotic girl's act so completely? Could he have been so naive?

She took her time before letting out news. She looked up at the stars overhead, felt the chilly winter air around her neck, chin, and cheeks. Finally she sighed, as if the entire affair fatigued her. "It truly pains me to bring you such shameful news, but it must be done. I suppose you humans do not have the senses that my kind do, but I thought she would never be able to deceive you so thoroughly…"

"What are you saying?" Takemaru demanded rudely. "Out with it!"

Ijimeru gave his brother a sidelong glance, but Takemaru did not notice it. Shiroihana read Ijimeru's caution and shock and approved of his unspoken respect of her. _Yes, he is the brother I would prefer to deal with. The kind that caves under intimidation, that knows to follow directions properly. _

"I did not want to share this with any other," Shiroihana said, feigning concern. "But as you insist, human. Your wife is carrying my husband's child. An abomination."

Takemaru flinched as if Shiroihana had spat into his face. "She told me he forced himself on her…" He was muttering, aiming the words more at himself than at Ijimeru, Shiroihana, or the guards.

"No," Shiroihana said, baring her teeth in a false smile of disgust. "She was a willing and eager participant in their shameful acts. Even now, when she is married to you, boy, she is dreaming of my husband. He has stolen her heart away, consumed it whole. She will never truly belong to you."

Takemaru was shaking, his lips were pinched down and his jaw squared, clenched with his rage. "Leave!" he yelled at Shiroihana.

"As you wish," Shiroihana murmured, acquiescing. She sensed that she had no further purpose here. The wrath on Takemaru's face and the horror that had awoken inside Ijimeru's eyes told her that Izayoi had very little time left. Even if neither human leader believed her it would be a powerful seed of doubt. They would move in and watch Izayoi with suspicion. It wouldn't take long for them to find out the truth and kill her.

Shiroihana left the Takeyabu, again as silent and ephemeral as a ghost. A wraith passing through snowy valleys and hillsides, a white shape under dark, tall pines.

Everything was falling into place.

* * *

Endnote: You may recognized the description of Master Jibyou. If you've read _Innocence_ then you've seen this in great detail, but with a different master. Master Dani. Anyway, this story explains Shiroihana's knowledge and involvement in the end of that story. So...everything is connected...

Shiroihana is so cruel in this one, but she has lived a fairly tough time. In other stories she has a similar personality, but she's more humrous. People still hate her and fear her though. Too much power for one being, and too much self-confidence. Too much cunning.


	32. Inutaisho's Plan

A/N: I am SO SORRY for my delay! Working all the time! Married, working, husband is sick. Etc...

Disclaimer: I do not own it!

* * *

Last Chapter: Izayoi received letters from IT through a messenger and sent one of her own back, but was informed that the messenger would not be returning again. Shiroihana was aware of the messenger passing back and forth, but ignored it. She sent Daken on a special secretive mission gathering two herbs, one of which was ginger, the other turmeric. Also she asked him to find a way to capture a sort of concentrated spiritual energy. Both of which he found. Then, with those matters settled, Shiroihana put her efforts toward ending Izayoi's life. She went to Takemaru and told him the truth about Izayoi's baby and who her heart really belongs to. She did it in front of Ijimeru, Takemaru's older brother and head of the clan, something she doesn't know the consequences of and doesn't care. Her thinking is that she wants Izayoi dead rather than given over to Inutaisho. But she doesn't want to kill Izayoi herself. So she will manipulate Takemaru into doing it for her. It could be argued, though she would dismiss it and belittle you for suggesting it, that Shiroihana is…jealous…? On some level, maybe.

* * *

"Learning without thought is labor lost; thought without learning is perilous."

"Ignorance is the night of the mind, but a night without moon and star."

—Confucius

* * *

Sesshomaru

(Letter to Lady Shiroihana)

Mother,

With the first melt arrives to the mountains here, I will release Inutaisho from Nejiro. He will be followed and observed, but not hindered. He and I have come to an agreement that he will abdicate and allow me to execute him after he has killed Ryukotsusei and rescued the girl.

I seek your counsel for this plan, quickly. I had not thought to share it with you. I did not think you would approve. My belief is that Father will honor his vow, as long as the girl is safe. But if she is not, Father will do everything in his power to kill both of us in revenge. I have done nothing to cause her harm.

I have heard rumors, Mother. Have you been in the Takeyabu province? What were you doing there?

* * *

**Inutaisho's Plan**

Winter was in its last, bitter gasps. Thick, wet snow fell after a few weeks of comparatively warm weather. The last snowstorms clogged the passages through the mountains again, closing them off until the real arrival of spring.

Messengers came and went at a slow trickle throughout the coldest parts of the winter, but during the brief melt off and warmth between heavy, thick snowfalls, they flowed swiftly, delivering urgent news that had been slowed or stopped in the depths of winter's grip.

A white apparition had crossed the Western Lands. Not a man, but a woman. Ethereal and haunting, she had traveled without stopping, crossing the width of Japan. It could only be Shiroihana, and the implications disturbed Sesshomaru. His mother was renowned for her reputation of power, but also of reclusiveness. Why had she emerged now? And even more frightening, why hadn't she told her son?

Sesshomaru fretted about this bit of news, though the battle was internal and never showed itself outwardly. Eventually he found a proper brush and a full length of rice paper and drafted a letter to her. It was formal and respectful, but also more detailed than his usual. Perhaps Shiroihana had been trying to play both sides as well and intended for Inutaisho and Sesshomaru to die together? But he could not dismiss his countless memories of her intensity, of her desperation to keep him from his father, of her suffocating love.

She would never betray him so completely that it would kill him. That was not her wish.

Even so, Sesshomaru wanted to know what her plan was. He had been operating with the overconfidence of assumption, assuming Shiroihana would not break expectations or act in some independent and yet devastating way. The messengers had been able to casually observe enough about the orientation and direction of this white female apparition that Sesshomaru could guess that her intent had been the Takeyabu province. Izayoi was the only thing there of any interest, yet messengers reported nothing unusual there. The reports were slow, but constant. Sesshomaru detected no lies, no hesitation. The kitsune had not been bought. They were not lying. The girl was unharmed.

So what had Shiroihana done on the western side of Japan?

She had written to him with fanatical fear that _he_ had harmed the girl. Had she simply gone to check up on the girl, their greatest tool against Inutaisho, with her own eyes and nose? Perhaps she no longer trusted her own network of foxes?

No word came for a few weeks after the letter had been sent out. The snow remained, piled high, unable to melt off in the low temperatures. Sesshomaru met with his father occasionally, sharing his news from the Takeyabu that the girl Izayoi was healthy and safe, still carrying Inutaisho's child. Sesshomaru feigned acceptance—or at least resignation—of these facts in front of his father. Yet he knew it wasn't enough to satisfy Inutaisho. The powerful inuyoukai warlord always eyed his son with distrust or even reproach when Sesshomaru openly acknowledged Izayoi or the abomination that would become his half-sibling.

Over and over again in these meetings, which were more like stilted confrontations, Sesshomaru longed for his father to speak frankly, to lose his temper, but Inutaisho had seemingly ascended into some higher enlightenment where he was able to dismiss or bury emotion, rather than voice them. It troubled Sesshomaru, angering him because it was reminiscent of Shiroihana's manipulative behavior.

But at last on a day when spring had just begun to emerge, filling the air with its rich wet scent, Inutaisho's silence gave way. It was also, perhaps not coincidentally, the same day that Sesshomaru received a letter from his mother. It was flowery with her love and devotion to him, and her support of his plan. She encouraged him to go through with his plans.

She explained her trip to the Takeyabu by saying that she had indeed wanted to see the girl's health for her own eyes. There should have been nothing alarming in this news, but Sesshomaru read it and felt his bones grow heavy and cold, like the ice closing off the mountain lakes.

Something was amiss, but Sesshomaru was powerless to find out what it was before the time came for him to release Inutaisho, to come through on his end of the bargain with his father.

After reading his mother's long awaited letter, Sesshomaru went to Nejiro castle, passing without hesitation or caution through the enormous gate and into the courtyard. He did not linger in the courtyard and ignored the human messengers that ran to him, stumbling as they tried to bow appropriately while still walking upright. They wanted Sesshomaru to wait while they summoned Inutaisho, but Sesshomaru was deaf to their requests. He moved through the castle's levels, searching for his father.

He found Inutaisho on the highest level, inside one of the largest bedrooms. There were doors on this room that led out into a balcony. Inutaisho had opened them, allowing the chilly early spring breeze to flow in, filled with the first warm scents of the changing season. Sesshomaru halted in front of his father's doorway and stared in, narrowing his eyes with suspicion and curiosity at what he saw.

Usually Sesshomaru met his father in the audience room, like a proper guest. Or sometimes in the courtyard when Inutaisho was already outside, strolling through it like a spirit, as if he were already dead. This time Sesshomaru had not sent any advanced warning of his visit and it was not on a day that Inutaisho would have expected him to come.

So it was that Inutaisho had not bothered to hide one of his greatest secrets.

As Sesshomaru stared into the bedroom, taking in the freshness of the wind from the open balcony doors, Inutaisho was seated in the middle of the room, inside a pool of afternoon sunlight that streamed in from the windows and balcony. Around him on the matting were several strange trinkets, items that Sesshomaru had never seen before, but nonetheless he recognized them and felt a wary tightness in his chest.

Inutaisho was looking at his son, unsurprised by his arrival at the door. He would have sensed Sesshomaru's approach probably from the moment he entered the castle. He had had enough time to hide these objects, to move to the audience room to intercept his son. Yet he had not done anything at all.

"Sesshomaru," Inutaisho said in cold greeting. "You've come to release me?"

Sesshomaru shifted uneasily though he kept his expression somber and distant. He tried to hide his discomfort at the sight of the items scattered around his father. There was a decorative pouch in purple, cinched shut and tied. Inutaisho's armor circled him like bowing petitioners or retainers, ready for a final duty to their longtime master. Decorative ornaments and clothing also sat on the matting, surrounding Inutaisho. One was a yellow and blue sash, another a dark red haori and hakama made of a rough, thick material. They were folded carefully and flattened, indicating disuse and years, even centuries of storage. Inutaisho's swords sat in front of the open balcony doors, each sheathed in its scabbard. Sesshomaru was lightly distracted by the power they gave off, resonating with Inutaisho.

But these items were all periphery to one thing in particular. It was a clunky necklace, made of what appeared to be metal. In its center, where Sesshomaru might have expected a whopping diamond or jade stone, there was a black object. It was not a stone exactly—it did not shine in the sunlight so it was not metallic like the rest of the necklace. It wasn't even black in a traditional sense. It was an absence of light. It was darkness in solid form.

This necklace with its dark core were seated directly in front of Inutaisho, at his knees. Sesshomaru tried to hide his perturbed reaction, but as he looked into his father's face, he knew he had failed. He sensed that Inutaisho would mention the object, explain himself, or invite Sesshomaru to ask about it. To avoid that, Sesshomaru blurted, "The snow has not yet melted enough, but I am tired of waiting."

Inutaisho's eyebrows shot upward. His lips curled mirthlessly. He was silent for too long. Sesshomaru fidgeted slightly, curling and uncurling his clawed fingers.

Finally, Inutaisho leaned forward slightly and picked up the necklace. He touched it delicately, as if afraid he would hurt himself by holding it. Sesshomaru avoided looking at the necklace. He watched his father's white hair instead, seeing the way it fell over his shoulder, sliding silkily.

"Do you remember this?" Inutaisho asked in a deep, throaty voice.

"I have never seen it before," Sesshomaru said. That was true, wasn't it? He felt certain he could not remember having seen it before…

Inutaisho held the necklace with both hands, closing his palms around the black stone. His eyes drifted shut heavily. He sighed. "There was a time when it came alive when I held it like this. It spoke to me; it told me what was coming."

Sesshomaru stayed motionless, tense with nervousness, but also skeptical. He did not believe much in mystical powers and tended instead to find them annoying. The riddles of ghosts and gods, natural spirits and soothsayers, they all seemed incomprehensible and pointless when compared to the practical nature of spies and mercenaries. Yet part of Sesshomaru's disdain for them had arisen out of his mother's fear and high regard for them. His father overall had had little to say.

"I have been trying all winter," Inutaisho said, speaking slowly. His eyelids rose gradually, as if it took enormous effort to lift them. "I always ask the same question of the netherworld, but if I am given an answer, it is never to the question I asked. This morning I held it and it said you would come to free me too soon."

"Ridiculous," Sesshomaru murmured, unimpressed.

Inutaisho raised his head, locking his gaze with Sesshomaru. "It also says you will break your promise to me."

"I have done nothing," Sesshomaru replied immediately.

Inutaisho smirked darkly. "I have been chatting with the dead long enough to know many of their tricks. I think I know what they meant." He shifted on the matting and rose slowly, stiffly to his feet. "You haven't betrayed me yet, but you will. Several times, I expect. Now I stand at a crossroads. I must make a choice and no matter what decision I make—someone will die."

Sesshomaru's mind skipped over his father's words, refusing to comprehend them. He thought of the necklace and sounds formed in his mind, a name he should not have known. _Meidou-seki. _

"I will stay here an additional three days, until the weather begins to turn even more." Inutaisho smiled with closed lips. "That will be long enough."

_What are you talking about?_ Sesshomaru wanted to demand, shouting. But he held the question inside, smothering it.

Inutaisho walked carefully over the treasures surrounding him, approaching Sesshomaru who still stood in the doorway. The necklace, the meidou-seki, clinked and clunked metallically. An arm's length away, Inutaisho glared at his son with narrowed eyes. "Do not disturb me for the next several days. I will be working hard, writing my will." He paused and then frowned deeply. "There is one thing you should know, Sesshomaru."

Sesshomaru said nothing, merely waited for his father to speak.

"I have decided to change the terms of our agreement."

"No," Sesshomaru snapped automatically.

"There is no choice in this," Inutaisho muttered, shaking his head. "You will accept the new terms or I will kill your mother."

"No," Sesshomaru said again, refusing to say anything else.

Inutaisho's gaze skipped over Sesshomaru's face, searching for something as it often did. "Would you protect her from me?" he asked. His voice had changed, becoming almost soft, weak. "Would you defend her from me, even if you knew it would do no good? Would you protect her if you knew my quarrel was only with her? That I would not harm you if you did not force me to do so?"

Sesshomaru stiffened, angered by the question and troubled by his own uncertainty. His mother was both precious and poisonous, figuratively and literally. Sesshomaru adored, admired, and simultaneously hated and despised her. It was a convoluted mass of emotion that he wanted nothing to do with. That thought alone made him almost ready to agree, to say to Inutaisho, _Yes, I will stand by and do nothing while you kill her. _It could be a new alliance. Father and son united against the viper that had pitted them as enemies for so long…

But then an image sprang into his mind, a memory. He was a young child, not more than a pup of eight or nine. He was sitting beside his mother in her dressing room, watching as she applied makeup to see some dignitary or other important visitor. She was regal and elegant as a cloud, serene and ethereal as a goddess. As she had finished applying her makeup, Shiroihana had playfully taken Sesshomaru into her lap and held him still as she pointed one deceptively delicate finger into the various assortment of bronzed and silvered mirrors mounted on the wall in front of her.

"_Look," _she'd said, directing his eyes to their joined reflection in the mirrors. _"We are the same, darling."_ Sesshomaru had felt her hands stroking his hair. He saw Shiroihana's fingers lift up to her forehead, tracing the purple half-moon in her forehead. Then she moved her finger gently to his forehead and touched his skin.

For the first time in his life, Sesshomaru realized that the crescent moon was also in _his_ forehead. He inhaled, thrilled and electrified by the sight of their sameness.

No, in spite of everything she had done, Sesshomaru knew he would never be able to sit idly by, uncaring that his father would slaughter his mother.

"_You are my heir,"_ Shiroihana had said. There was no greater evidence of that fact than Sesshomaru's own reflection.

But what Sesshomaru's heart said and what the situation called for were entirely different things. Inutaisho could not be allowed to break their previous agreement.

"You are bound to your promise," Sesshomaru said, ignoring his father's question. "I have performed without dishonor. The human girl is safe. I will see to it that her offspring is also protected. I will preserve them inside this castle if I must." He paused, unable to quite hide his disgust at the thought. "But Chichiue must agree to abdicate and pass on his swords, his title, and his land to this Sesshomaru."

Inutaisho's demeanor had changed, darkening. His eyes had grown cold as he looked at Sesshomaru. "None of that has changed. You will still be Lord of the Western Lands after my death. I will still abdicate to you. Everything will be yours—but you will not inherit all of my swords."

Outrage flooded Sesshomaru, flushing him bright red. "What?"

Inutaisho's jaw clenched. "You will always be the heir of my lands and my position, but you are the heir of your mother's heart. That is why I cannot give you Tetsusaiga."

"And Sounga?" Sesshomaru demanded, moving forward slightly with a menacing motion, challenging his father. "Who will receive these swords? You cannot be foolish enough to believe no one will acquire them!"

"They are not for you," Inutaisho said, unmoved by Sesshomaru's outburst. "And they never will be—but never mind it. You will have everything else you desire."

"You insult me," Sesshomaru muttered, biting out the words. "You think I am too weak."

"No," Inutaisho said blandly. "You're too strong. You don't need swords of destruction. Your willpower will be enough."

"This breaks our agreement," Sesshomaru growled, shaking slightly with repressed rage. "I will not release you. I will order the girl killed."

Inutaisho shook his head. "No, you won't. You know I will be forced to kill you if that happens. Besides," he said, smirking. "You are not the only one making decisions, are you? Shiroihana is the one in control and she does not care about what becomes of the swords—only about you and the Western Lands and her vengeance."

"I am independent of her," Sesshomaru snarled. "I walk my own path—the way of power and conquest."

"Because you desire to surpass me," Inutaisho finished, uninterestedly. He tilted his head and the look in his face became one of pity. Sesshomaru felt as if he might explode with fury or dishonor himself by breaking into angry sobs. The pity in Inutaisho's face was unmistakable. But how? How could Inutaisho, who was facing the loss of everything, pity Sesshomaru, who was about to gain everything?

"Yes," Sesshomaru whispered savagely.

Inutaisho grinned, showing his fangs. "And whose wish is that for your future? Is it yours? Truly? Or is it _hers?_"

"Mine," Sesshomaru snapped immediately.

Inutaisho lifted his hands, making the meidou-seki tinkle. Sesshomaru flinched away from it, as if his father had pushed poison at him instead of a seemingly harmless necklace. Something flashed through Sesshomaru's skin and mind. The smell of fire, rotting flesh, blood. His body felt cold.

"Would you like to ask _them_ what they think about your future? About your path?" Inutaisho asked.

"Ridiculous," Sesshomaru snapped, curling his lips with disgust. "This Sesshomaru does not waste his time with such nonsense."

"In that case then—leave. Our new arrangement is almost identical to the last one. In three days I will leave to kill Ryukotsusei." Inutaisho pulled back, turning and walking back to the clear space on the floor where he had been sitting with his things, his treasures. He set the meidou-seki down with great care and then sat himself. When he looked up again and saw that Sesshomaru showed no signs of leaving, he motioned with a dismissive wave. "Get out of my sight."

Angry and disgusted—and betrayed, though he did not want to think of his feelings using that word as a descriptor—Sesshomaru obeyed. As he passed out of the castle and into the courtyard again, Sesshomaru found himself thinking only about how Inutaisho had robbed him of his inheritance and disgraced him, making him into a false heir. A reviled child.

It was only later that he would look back on this conversation—one of the last that he would ever have with his living, breathing father—and wonder about some of the things that had been said, things he could never ask about later. What had Inutaisho constantly asked of the dead? Why had he changed the agreement? What decisions could he have made? Had he anticipated everything that had happened to him?

It was only later that Sesshomaru also realized that he had missed something in the confrontation, something vital that could have changed Inutaisho's mind about the swords. He had miscalculated, misunderstood his father's intentions. Inutaisho had asked him whether he would _protect_ his mother, even when there was no threat to himself and even if he knew he would die. The truth was complex, but Sesshomaru knew he would fight to save Shiroihana from Inutaisho, just as at least at one time in his life he would have defended Inutaisho from Shiroihana too.

It took years for him to realize this. Years for him to see that his father had expected and wanted him to say, _"I would die for Mother. I would protect her._" But instead he had tried to cover what was in his heart, answering evasively. And though Inutaisho might have known the true answer, Sesshomaru did not pass the test without speaking the truth aloud.

He had failed. Most of Inutaisho's secrets would go to the grave with him. His son would never know them.

* * *

Three days later the sun had melted much of the snow in the lower elevations. The air had become pleasant, even warm. At noon on the third day Inutaisho emerged from his castle, passing through Nejiro's gates for the last time. He met with Sesshomaru while the eyes of kitsune messengers and human servants stared with wonder and tight anticipation.

Inutaisho was dressed in his full armor, the regalia of outright war. He wore all three blades. No one doubted that slaying Ryukotsusei would be easy for him, even alone, without anyone else's help. Only one thing remained. Sesshomaru had to tell his father Izayoi's location. Shiroihana had given the girl a charm to hide her scent from searching youkai. Inutaisho would be hampered by that now if he set off to go looking for her using his own gut and sense of smell.

Father and son were especially cold as they met outside of Nejiro.

"Where is Izayoi?" Inutaisho asked in a deep, gravelly voice.

Sesshomaru lifted his chin proudly and remained silent. The seconds ticked by until it became clear that Sesshomaru wasn't going to answer.

"You remember what happens if you break our agreement," Inutaisho muttered in warning. "I will kill your mother. Don't dishonor yourself by breaking the agreement."

Sesshomaru considered holding out longer and challenging his father. Why should he hold true to the arrangement when Inutaisho had cheated him? But Sesshomaru refused to openly defy the promise. Even if Inutaisho could not act with honor, Sesshomaru could and would.

"She is in the Takeyabu province, in a palace called Kyoushi."

Inutaisho nodded and turned, walking away. Sesshomaru did not watch as his form receded away at a steady pace. In a few moments Sesshomaru would begin to follow, trailing Inutaisho well out of hearing range. It was not truly a journey they would make as companions, more as predator and prey.

Shiroihana

* * *

Even the greatest creatures die. The earth itself changes. I have seen it do so over the centuries. A streambed sinks deeper into the ground. Forests age and decay. Mountainsides crumble into the ferocity of the sea.

It should hardly be surprising then that Inutaisho was mortal, too. In fact, he was not even hard to kill. Of course you do not believe that I killed him. You have heard it was Ryukotsusei, and you like that myth. You don't want him to have died any other way. Fear not, then. My secrets will die with me, someday. You will never be lucky enough to learn them.

You did not come here for my story, after all. You came for _his._

I will say only one thing. Inutaisho's enemies were uncreative in their attempts to kill him. They came seeking glory. They fought the same way he did, with brute strength and their own inborn powers. They did not look out at the world and ask for its solutions to the problem of the Dog General.

But I did. And I am the one who killed him.

I took my vengeance. I made Inutaisho pay for his sins against me, my family, my dynasty. Even _Brother._

Yet I am punished. Sesshomaru and I have been in discord ever since Inutaisho's death. I cannot fathom the reasons why. The death benefitted both of us, freeing us of Inutaisho's tyranny. It gave Sesshomaru a chance to start on his true path, the way of invincibility. I faded into the distance after Inutaisho's death. It was not necessarily my wish to do so, but it was what Sesshomaru wanted. I left my palace in his care and went to travel the world, to see it with my own eyes. It was a grand adventure, but I will not share it here.

* * *

On the same day that Inutaisho was released, Shiroihana had already been waiting for several days inside a small, abandoned mountain hut. Daken had come with her, watching the road and waiting for some sign of Inutaisho. Kitsune foxes, the three most loyal creatures serving Shiroihana aside from Daken, also served her as messengers and spies. One had already relayed information that Sesshomaru had delayed in releasing Inutaisho, a fact that had soured Shiroihana's stomach and made her palms constantly sweaty with anxiety.

She sat in the darkened, moldering hut for hours on end, barely breathing and she held herself in stasis, waiting. She had never meditated before, but now she found a hidden depth inside herself, serenity that calmed her until the lingering spring chill seeped into her thick purple and blue robes. When she came out of the meditation it was only to realize that a fox was at the door, calling for her to acknowledge him.

She blinked, confused at first. She had been halfway dreaming, seeing visions of an otherworld, a spirit realm where every color was muted and the mountain mists that she had seen drifting over the remaining, stubborn snow were actually ghosts of the long dead. They had been whispering to her, coming closer and closer the longer she waited like a hunter in a blind, more patient than any prey. Now, back in reality, Shiroihana saw the fox's shadowy form inside the door-less entryway and felt a thrill of alarm—thinking he truly was a spirit. But the illusion faded as soon as the fox called her name again.

She shifted and said, "Yes? What is it?"

"Word has finally come that the Dog General has left Nejiro."

Shiroihana nodded. "Good."

The fox lingered, uncertain. Gradually, Shiroihana realized there was more to this news. "What is it?" she asked again.

"Lord Sesshomaru is following him, just out of sight distance."

Shiroihana had expected nothing less. She considered this information, imagining Sesshomaru's presence during her confrontation with Inutaisho. _No,_ she thought. _He must not be there._

She reached into her robes, slowly, as if fatigued. She pulled out a small trinket, a stone bound by a leather strip to form a necklace talisman. She tossed it at the fox carelessly. After the kitsune caught it, Shiroihana instructed him. "Go to Daken and give him this stone. Be careful how you approach him. The stone will hide your scent and your aura with its magic. Don't startle anyone. They might kill you in a moment of fear. Tell Daken to give Inutaisho this stone, but don't tell him what it does. Tell Daken nothing else in our plan has changed, but there won't be much time."

The kitsune bowed. "Yes, my lady."

In the next moment the fox was gone and Shiroihana closed her eyes, drifting off into her bizarre dreams again. She could see through the sodden wood logs of the hut, over the craggy mountainside, still littered with deep drifts of snow. Formless shapes wafted over the snow, wispy and seamless against the snow and the overcast, gray sky. The darkness of the pine trees beyond was muted, so distant that their color was distorted.

The shapes did not look at her, but Shiroihana could hear them whisper.

_Tell me this is what Brother wants,_ she called to them without words. _Tell me I am right._

There was no answer, just the continuous hiss of whispering, undecipherable, each word lost in the sea of small sounds.

Shiroihana's eyes felt heavy in their sockets. She tried again. _Speak to me. Tell me what I need to know, I beg you. Mothers, ancestral Queens. Will it kill him outright? Will it not touch him? Please, spare my son._

Time passed strangely in Shiroihana's mind. It seemed only seconds before she opened her eyes again she found the fox back at the door. He reported success and that Inutaisho and Daken had met with each other. They were on their way.

Shiroihana inhaled sharply and smelled the foulness of the mold, rubbing her nasal passageways raw until they ached. Her mind and body sank back into the present, living world with an undeniable firmness. "What of Sesshomaru?" she asked the fox.

"He will lose the Dog General's scent, and probably Daken's as well. But he will not be outwitted for long."

How could he be when he was Shiroihana's son?

Smug and satisfied, Shiroihana started issuing new orders. "Fox—call Hina and have her set out the tea table and cushion. Bring fresh snow or water and have her heat it for tea. Then send her in here to me. Hurry."

The fox bowed and disappeared.

Shiroihana set to work. From a small lacquered box she brought out her secret ingredients, all wrapped in smooth, musty smelling silk to preserve them and keep them from shattering. She unrolled a small, chalky trinket, an amulet that would protect her from small amounts of spiritual power. It stank, even after Shiroihana had left it for several days and nights inside a bath of perfumed water in her palace. She tucked it inside her kimono and then began mixing the dry and wet ingredients for her tea.

After several minutes, during which she could hear the female kitsune Hina setting water over a small fire to heat, Shiroihana called the fox inside the hut. Hina applied makeup to Shiroihana's face, painting her like a bride. With speed and delicacy, Hina tied Shiroihana's hair up and decorated it with clips and pins. While Shiroihana sat ethereally, dispassionate and untouchable in her confidence and beauty, Hina laid down soft pelts and cushions over the water-damaged and frozen wood floor of the hut. A small, portable tea table was set up; covering what had once been a fire hearth in the center of the mountain hut's floor. Shiroihana and Hina then worked together, setting up a small tray for two with a teapot and teacups.

When Hina brought in the water, steaming in the frigid mountain air, Shiroihana at last began to feel shaky with nervousness. She scolded Hina as the fox dribbled a few drops of hot water onto the table and the hut floor. The teapot was small—ensuring that the tea brewed inside would be concentrated. After Hina had finished pouring, Shiroihana began adding her tea mixture.

Ginger and turmeric spices gave the tea a potent smell, barely tolerable to inuyoukai noses. Shiroihana frowned, worrying. How could she get Inutaisho to drink the mixture when it smelled so noxious? How could she pretend to stomach it herself? The other vials of sludge, distilled human spiritual energy, made its color change from frothy green to deep blue, like the sky.

There was almost no time to finish the setup before Shiroihana heard one of the male foxes outside shouting out warm greetings and Daken's reply in kind. She had the presence of mind to marvel at Daken's ability to act—in another life he could have performed any role in any drama. The mongrel inuyoukai managed to sound pleasant and comfortable; there was no hint of fear or stress in his voice. She thought of Daken and his loyalty with warmth, hoping it would give her strength to face Inutaisho.

She heard Inutaisho's armor before she saw his shadow or felt his footsteps. He ducked to get inside, being too tall and too broad-shouldered to fit through smoothly the way Shiroihana and the foxes did. Daken stayed outside respectfully, letting Inutaisho cross the threshold by himself.

Shiroihana did not look at Inutaisho when he came through the open doorway, bringing with him clean, fresh air from the mountainside. She bowed deeply to him, desperate to portray obedience and respect though her true feelings were suddenly muddled and fearful. Her hair tinkled musically.

"Please," she said formally, "sit."

Inutaisho remained where he was, massive and imposing. He was taking in the decrepit hut, sniffing with disgust. "What a fitting place for the likes of you," he remarked, snarling. "It suits you so well."

Shiroihana was glad she was bowing—she was unable to stop herself from sneering at his insult. She stayed bowing low. "How cruel Lord Inutaisho is. I have come to present myself to you as the lowly creature I am. I have come to ask forgiveness, to seek peace."

"You don't know the meaning of those words," Inutaisho snapped.

Panic fluttered inside Shiroihana, but she pressed on. She had no choice. "Please, you must believe me. Sit, talk with me. Let us share tea."

"It smells like shit. Like poison." His coarseness was another bad sign.

Shiroihana sat up, hoping her beauty would persuade him over her words. "Please. If you would like, I will pour myself a cup and drink it to prove it is not poison."

Inutaisho snarled, curling his lip. "Don't bother. I know it's poison. I don't have time for this charade, Shiroihana."

Shiroihana frowned, fumbling with her own hands in mounting nervousness. She reached for the tea and poured two glasses, ignoring the fact that Inutaisho made no move to join her. "I will prove that it isn't poison," she said, trying to keep the anxiety from her voice.

Inutaisho let out a harsh sound, a sort of bark. He stomped over, his armor clanking and his swords rattling at his side and against his back. He swept the colorful, delicate teacup from Shiroihana's clawed hands, spilling the blue, noxious liquid all over the ruined floor of the hut. Shiroihana let out a small cry of alarm, scrambling for the pieces of the cup while simultaneously flinching from the substance.

He sat heavily across the small table from her and brusquely picked up the cup that had been set out and poured for him. Hina, the fox acting as Shiroihana's servant and maid, dipped her head, cringing as if she expected attack. Inutaisho swirled the liquid inside the glass and then lifted his golden eyes, staring at Shiroihana over the rim. "What kind of idiot did you think I was, Shiroihana?" he demanded.

Shiroihana lifted her chin in the air. "I have never underestimated your intelligence, Lord Inutaisho."

He let out a hard, mirthless laugh. "You're a terrible actress. You must be desperate to get me to drink this shit." He dipped a clawed finger into it and calmly watched as his flesh smoked, singeing.

Shiroihana closed her eyes, sensing certain death. She had failed.

Her thoughts flew to Sesshomaru. At once she found herself speaking earnestly, without any deception at all. "Please—you must know something. Sesshomaru had nothing to do with this."

"Every word you have ever given me was a lie, or a truth meant to hurt. You disgust me." He set the cup down in a slow, careful motion. "You corrupted my son. You made him into your brother." He sighed, closing his eyes. "It wasn't meant to be like this."

"Don't harm Sesshomaru," Shiroihana insisted, ignoring his latest words as if they meant about as much as the rain drumming on the roof of her palace. "You may kill me if you wish, but Sesshomaru must survive!"

"Fool!" Inutaisho sneered. He picked up the teacup and wrinkled his nose with repulsion. Then, without warning, he downed it, tossing back his head and letting the thick, slimy liquid slither down his throat. He slammed the teacup down again and gagged with a foul gurgling sound. His next breaths were ragged and whistling. His eyes watered and his expression wrinkled with pain.

Shiroihana stared, speechless.

In a hoarse, ugly voice, Inutaisho told her, "I knew you were waiting with some way to kill me."

Shiroihana's body flushed cold. "How?" she hissed savagely. "How did you know?"

Inutaisho fumbled at his armor, fishing underneath it with a shaking hand. He pulled out a heavy, clinking necklace of metal and threw it viciously at Shiroihana. She ducked, gasping in spite of herself, but recognized the trinket even before it had reached the floor. "Meidou-seki."

"I don't have any time, Shiroihana," Inutaisho snapped roughly. "One cup of your poison isn't going to be enough to keep me from defeating that dragon. The whole pot might do me in eventually—but not before I rescue Izayoi."

Something in his mannerisms, his expression, revealed that this was a bizarre bartering session, a last arrangement between the two of them. Shiroihana's spine stiffened with tension. "Why would you drink the whole pot? You intend to die?"

"I will die for Izayoi," Inutaisho said, firmly. "But you must cooperate with me or she will die and I will not spare Sesshomaru."

Shiroihana leaned forward, baring her teeth. "But he is innocent! He knows nothing of my plan for this!" She gestured frantically at the teapot where it steamed, stinking but innocent. "How could you threaten such a thing when—"

"Because that is what truly matters to you. I have uncovered how best to punish you and Sesshomaru for your misdeeds from the grave. You know that as long as I carry these swords Sesshomaru is no match for me."

"You would face him with your swords?" Shiroihana said, glaring. "You coward."

"I would give him a quick, fast death—to punish _you._ And as for him," Inutaisho leaned back in his seat and glowered at Shiroihana with a dark triumph. "He has no compassion. He is even worse than _you. _He would not stop me from killing you. He would see you and I both dead if it benefitted him. You have created a monster without a heart."

"You liar! Fool!" Shiroihana shrieked, nearly hysteric at his words. It was not the accusation that Sesshomaru lacked a heart or compassion—but the idea that he did not care whether his own mother lived or died when Shiroihana was sure one way or another, that everything she did was for her son.

"His punishment then," Inutaisho went on, ignoring Shiroihana's emotional outburst, "is to never receive my blessing or his inheritance. He will never have my strength or my support. He is the son of my flesh, but not my soul. I leave him to you and to this wretched world."

"Fool!" Shiroihana repeated, growling. Words had left her, vanished. Her body was shaking. Sweat pooled between her breasts and down her back.

"Indeed," Inutaisho answered, grinning hard. "You don't much like this game when it is turned back on you, do you?"

"What do you want?" Shiroihana shouted, spitting almost catlike.

Inutaisho snatched the teapot and poured a sloppy cup of the foul blue liquid into his exquisite porcelain cup. "First you must swear on the souls of your ancestors, all the Queens back to the beginning, that you will honor all of my final wishes."

Shiroihana sat back in her seat, scowling. Her hands clenched into tight little fists. "Fine."

Inutaisho tapped the edges of his teacup, clicking his claws on the fine, thin ceramic. "You'll be bound to this, so don't agree lightly. I'm giving you the meidou-seki as part of my will. It will hold you to your promises in this life and the next." He sighed and gripped the cup, lifting it from the table. He sloshed the sickening tea down his throat and gagged, nearly bringing it back up. After only a moment's recovery time, Inutaisho set it back on the table with a thump.

"Pour another," he ordered.

Hina moved to obey him and Inutaisho motioned her to stop. "Not you—her." He jabbed a finger viciously at Shiroihana.

Almost blank now, Shiroihana poured more of the tea into Inutaisho's cup, like an obedient housewife.

"Secondly you must hold Sesshomaru to all of his promises to me. That most importantly includes Izayoi."

Shiroihana kept her face blank as she considered the girl, weighing her options. Inutaisho might die fighting the dragon and never get a chance to find out that Shiroihana had set the girl up for an untimely death. She held her tongue and pretended that nothing interesting had happened regarding the girl.

"No harm must come to her or to her child," Inutaisho said. His voice had weakened, seeming to age. His skin had paled, losing its luster. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," Shiroihana said.

Inutaisho drank the third glass as soon as she gave her consent. He took several moments to regain his strength after this glass. He shuddered and his head drooped. Sweat had broken out over his brow. His breath was rank, putrid with the clever poison. Finally he motioned for Shiroihana to fill the cup once more. She did so, unquestioningly.

"And last—I want you to go away from these islands after my death."

Shiroihana blinked. "What?"

"You heard me. Leave here. Pretend to mourn me. Visit once in a while to make sure Sesshomaru is behaving as he should be, and to protect Izayoi and her child. But beyond that—your time as a well known leader is gone. I exile you. Sesshomaru will rule in my stead and as I never had a chance to enjoy his company, neither will you once I am gone." He sighed and then said, "Eventually Sesshomaru will need you. You'll have to come back. You'll know the right time. Be available for him. Someday he may need your help with Tenseiga."

"Tenseiga?" Shiroihana parroted back, stunned. "You are going to give him Tenseiga?"

Inutaisho grinned and now his teeth were nearly as pale as his skin. "Yes."

"Bastard," Shiroihana snarled. "How dare you insult him like that! That's the sword you—"

"I killed his namesake with, yes," Inutaisho finished for her, blandly. "It's the only sword I could give to a heartless creature like Sesshomaru. Anything else and he would become as destructive and evil as Ryukotsusei." He fingered the teacup, grimacing at it. "You must never help him find a path of destruction. The powers in my swords must remain out of his reach until he is truly mature enough to use them."

"How can I do any of this?" Shiroihana demanded, huffing in outrage. "Everything you do to us is an insult! Your very life—your presence—degrades me! I could never leave Sesshomaru and never prevent him from taking what is rightfully his!"

Inutaisho swallowed, a thick, repulsive sound. He looked paler than usual, with a hint of green as if he might vomit at any moment. "I already told you—he doesn't care whether you live or die. I could just kill you for not agreeing."

As if to make good on this threat, Inutaisho reached to his belt and pulled on Tetsusaiga, the sword he had favored increasingly over the centuries. Forged from his own teeth, Shiroihana had always known the blade was intertwined with Inutaisho's will, heavy with his indentity. She tensed, reaching with a flurry into her own thick robes for the small poisoned dagger she had hidden on herself.

Their standoff was brief. Inutaisho, befuddled and clumsy with the influence of the poisoned tea, could not grip or transform his own blade properly. It was too heavy for him, as if reluctant. Shiroihana, fueled by adrenaline, desperation, and panic, was much faster. She produced the dagger, laced with the same poisons that were in the tea, and slashed furiously at Inutaisho's sword hand.

He hissed and Tetsusaiga slipped away from his grip, sliding back into its rusty, ugly scabbard. Shiroihana paused, watching with shock as blood rose up from his wounds and dribbled onto the tea table and the grungy, moldering floor, the cushions and the small matting Hina had put out. Inutaisho stared at the wounds as well, watching almost dispassionately as his blood flowed, bright red and healthy, filled with vigor.

It should have scabbed over within a minute, but the seconds ticked by and it showed no sign at all of stopping or even slowing.

Inutaisho curled his lip with distaste and flicked his wrist, sending a fine spray of crimson blood flying. It splattered over Hina, who whimpered with alarm, and it arced over Shiroihana's fine robes, and her heavily made up face. Inutaisho brought his hand to his mouth and lapped casually at the blood, only to scowl.

"I see," he muttered. "More poison."

"I will see you dead," Shiroihana snarled. "It is only what you deserve."

Inutaisho met her gaze blankly as he reached out, slowly so as not to alarm Shiroihana into striking with her dagger again. He flipped over the poisoned tea, letting the slimy stuff flow sickeningly over the tea table. "I think I've had more than enough to do the job."

He wasn't dead and did not appear to be _dying._ Not yet anyway. Shiroihana had hoped that he would simply fall over dead, but his power was too great. Her plan had fallen apart, transforming into _his_ plan—whatever _that_ was. She could not believe that he intended to die for Izayoi, or that he would willingly go to his death at all. That was preposterous. But even if it was the truth, Shiroihana was smug and moderately satisfied.

Izayoi would die before Inutaisho could get to her. And with any luck at all, Inutaisho would die as a result of the poison during the fight with Ryukotsusei.

She licked her lips and tasted a speck of Inutaisho's blood. It was salty; flushing her brain momentarily with recollections of what seemed like a different life—one where she had happily shared her bed, her heart, her body and soul with this inuyoukai warrior. Now it seemed like a delirious fever-dream, a crazy, delusional hallucination that had never been. Sesshomaru was her brother-son, a creature spawned immaculately from her own body, with no father at all, just the imposter standing in front of her. And even he would soon be mere memory.

"I must go. Time is short," Inutaisho said. He stood up, bumping the tea table and sending the pot spinning, tipping. It spilled, falling toward Shiroihana. She leapt up, crying out, scooting away from the foul stuff.

When she looked up again Inutaisho was in the doorway, looking back at her with narrowed, angry golden eyes. "One last thing," he said, darkly. "I have sent expert assassins into the Middle Lands. Just before Sesshomaru set me free, I received word that they had succeeded in their mission."

Shiroihana's breath stopped, hitching in her throat. _Koshoshiro. _

Inutaisho smiled, hard and bitter. "I can see you didn't already know. Excellent." He let out a small burst of mocking laughter. "Do you know why I did it, Shiroihana?"

"You didn't," she stammered, numbed. "You couldn't…" _Koshoshiro is his ally…_

"I did," Inutaisho said and his teeth were sharp, wicked inside his mouth. "And I did it because meidou-seki told me what you'd done to Izayoi. I will die for Izayoi or with her, either way I will be fulfilled because _you_ will be alive and alone. For the rest of your days. A bitter and heartless bitch. A wretch whose granddaughters will despise her."

Shaking with anger, but unable to speak, Shiroihana snatched the meidou-seki, which was still lying nearby her, and flung it at Inutaisho and the door, but the inuyoukai Lord of the West was already gone, ducking outside the entryway and onto the misted mountainside.

The meidou-seki landed on the floor, clattering. Hina and Daken, one inside the hut and the other just outside it, waited in a tense silence for Shiroihana to give them orders, to react further. Shiroihana was panting, overwhelmed with dizziness and nausea. She shrieked at Hina, "Go to the Middle Lands! Go!"

The fox bowed curtly and left at once.

The silence descended as Hina's footsteps and Inutaisho's vanished into the wilderness. Shiroihana closed her eyes, trying to pass back into her earlier meditation to find solace, but the otherworld was gone, cut off from her terrified, frantic mind. The corner near the entryway whispered, hissing.

Finally, Daken called to her in a hesitant, cautious voice, "My lady? Shiroihana."

She tossed out orders to him without considering them at all. They rose from somewhere inside, automatically. "Go and find Sesshomaru. See to it that you both trail Inutaisho. Tell Sesshomaru to kill Inutaisho if the dragon does not finish the job."

"Yes, my lady."

After Daken had gone, Shiroihana tore out her hair clips and shook out her long, white hair. She scratched at her makeup and traced the crescent moon in her forehead and slowly, quietly, began to cry.

* * *

Endnote: Shiroihana's character is so difficult and complex! AHHHH! She behaves very differently outside of this story, way in the future, like she has evolved more of a heart, and slowly gotten a little over the insanity that Inutaisho brought out in her. Anyway, hope you like!


	33. The Death of All Honor

A/N: Notice if you will that in Sess's portion of this chapter Inutaisho is pulling a little manipulation of his own. Daken tries to correct it but fails because Sess has made up his mind that he doens't want to hear anything else on what has happened. This chapter is named for both Takemaru and Sess. Sess gets a big slap in the face, and Takemaru at last reacts to Shiroihana's intel about Izayoi's betrayal and deception. **Just so everyone knows,** the next chapter will be, in one way or another, the beginning scene from _Inuyasha Movie 3_. Don't expect details about the fight with Ryukotsusei really all that much because the whole point of this tale is to expose the survivors of it, all the people who knew Inutaisho to tell his story through them, not to have Inutaisho do it himself. Besides, I don't feel like writing an epic battle scene. Violence yes. Drama yes. Twists and turns, yes. Epic battles with Tetsuseiga (or however you spell it I am getting rusty!) not so much right now. Hopefully that doesn't bother anyone too hardcore.

And now without further ado...

Disclaimer: I do not own them

Last Chapter: Sess confronted his father and failed a "compassion test" that solidified Inutaisho's decision not to pass on his two powerful swords to Sess. Sess released his father from Nejiro to kill the dragon and rescue Izayoi. Meanwhile, Shiroihana waited with her poison made into tea, and sent Daken to find Inutaisho. When Inutaisho came he knew her plan and submitted to it, with some demands of his own. In the end Shiroihana did not want to agree to one of them, and Inutaisho left her with the news that he had sent assassins to the Middle Lands, to kill her former lover, Koshoshiro.

* * *

**Night; and once again,  
the while I wait for you, cold wind  
turns into rain.**

Shiki Masaoka

* * *

Sesshomaru  
(Letter to Shiroihana, after the death of Inutaisho)

Your actions against Chichiue were cowardly and despicable. This Sesshomaru was fully capable of protecting himself against Chichiue. This Sesshomaru has no need of your help. This Sesshomaru no longer desires your company or your guidance.

You are banished from this Sesshomaru's presence. You are never to return unless this Sesshomaru seeks you out.

* * *

**The Death of All Honor**

From the moment that Sesshomaru lost his father's scent, he knew someone or something had intervened. His mind raced for several minutes while he stood still, sniffing with what would have appeared as only a casual interest at the air. Slowly he continued ahead, following the general direction his father had been traveling. He found that the bushes and saplings his father had passed by still contained his scent. The earth and the occasional patches of stubborn blue-white snow revealed Inutaisho's passage as well.

_It was not a spell to erase his entire presence,_ Sesshomaru thought. Whatever had happened to Inutaisho's scent had not been so powerful that it hid his father's traces. Was it a barrier? Sesshomaru forged onward, moving with haste, sensing that time could be short. Inutaisho might be getting away—yet even as this concern reared inside him, Sesshomaru knew it was not true.

He paused only to check for signs of his father's passage, and there were many. Inutaisho made no effort to hide his tracks. He even seemed to walk through snow patches just to be sure he left footprints that were obvious even from far away. He had no concern about being trailed. In fact, it seemed he wanted to be found.

The path changed after a few miles, veering off into the rockier, steeper mountainsides. The snow was plentiful here, making Inutaisho even easier to track. His scent still lingered in the snow. Sesshomaru stooped periodically to pick up snow from around his father's footprints and sniff curiously at the hard, crusty ice. The scent was faint, but present nonetheless. Sesshomaru flicked the snow away and continued, restraining a scowl as he considered this unpredicted turn of events.

He crested one large hillside, cutting his way easily through the jagged rocks, and found himself looking into a pretty, sheltered valley, clogged with snow. Inutaisho's footsteps here were joined by another set. Disturbed, Sesshomaru advanced on this second trail and examined it by sight and scent. He recognized his father's companion and blinked with fresh alarm.

It was Daken.

Daken's presence suggested that Shiroihana was involved in this somehow.

_No…_

Heedless of the track now, Sesshomaru plunged forward, racing with a fleet-footed, light tread over the snow. He sprinted through the valley and up, over the next rise, running parallel to the tracks in the snow.

At the top of the hill he stopped, suddenly picking out his father's scent again. He hesitated, listening and sniffing at the faint, cool breeze. Looking below he saw dark pine trees, silent and stoic, somber and beautiful against the snow. Moving underneath these tall pines Sesshomaru saw Daken and Inutaisho moving together at a slow, steady pace, heading uphill toward him. He stood still, numb and mute, waiting for them to reach him.

Daken was the first to look up, stumbling slightly as he recognized Sesshomaru on the hill above. "Lord Sessho…"

Inutaisho snapped to attention then as well, lifting his head and sniffing. His face scrunched up as he looked at Sesshomaru. "Ah, there you are. Faster than I'd expected."

A strange scent wafted up to Sesshomaru and he flinched momentarily, caught off guard at the foulness of it. "Father," he muttered. "What has happened here?"

Surprisingly Daken interjected, trying to speak an answer before Inutaisho. "Lady Shiroihana wanted to speak a few final words with Lord Inutaisho before he goes to slay Ryukotsusei."

Inutaisho sneered, but underlying the expression Sesshomaru picked out the weariness and pain in his father. Then, through the reek of herbs, he smelled Inutaisho's blood.

"What has happened?" Sesshomaru repeated, this time with rumble of anger.

Inutaisho began walking again, heading up the hill to close the gap between himself and Sesshomaru. Daken fell behind, seeming sheepish, smirking and making small voiceless noises in the back of his throat with an extreme nervousness.

"I wasn't supposed to speak with you I suspect," Inutaisho said as he walked to stand beside his son but facing in the opposite direction and not looking at him directly. "Shiroihana expected that I would walk alone to my death, so she sent Daken to explain _her_ version of this detour to you."

Sesshomaru had turned his head, unable to feign disinterest or aloofness as he registered his father's bleeding, his pain, his sickening scent…

His lips twitched, but he fought back the words. _Chichiue, what did Mother do to you?_

Sesshomaru saw the sword Sounga on his father's back and wondered with a growing fury at his mother's audacity and foolishness. Had she underestimated Inutaisho's strength so much that she would come without an army, without any protection at all? Didn't she know the danger she was putting herself in? Didn't she know that Inutaisho could have taken her hostage and turned the tables on Sesshomaru, stealing back power for himself and killing both his son and his accursed ex-wife in one swift, terrible blow?

_Why would she do this? Why didn't Chichiue kill her?_

"Your mother has no confidence in you," Inutaisho said. "I can see you've smelled my blood and the poison I drank from her."

Alarm flashed through Sesshomaru like fire through dry grass on a hot, windy day. "Poison?"

"Yes," Inutaiusho said, nodding. "Your mother has dishonored you by cheating to weaken me. She staged this meeting to seduce me into peace with both her body and her mind and offered me poisoned tea."

Inutaisho had once said that he would cut off his own arm and offer it to Shiroihana if they could have peace between them again, as Sesshomaru had never before seen. He had found himself ready to do the same if it would cease the endless war between his parents. Now he saw the depths of Shiroihana's hatred and her trickery, her lack of honor…

He felt his face flushing red with shame and rage as he realized he had allied himself with such a dishonest, dishonorable…

He could see his father sitting under these somber pines, painted black against the blue-white snow, and he could see his mother's beauty, shining across from Inutaisho. He could see the tea, the intricate details on the porcelain, the delicate motions of his mother's hands as she poured the tea, the alluring shape of her face and long, slender neck as she smiled and bowed…And Inutaisho had accepted her feigned offer of peace. He had taken the tea and it had been poison. His trust had been betrayed not just now, but countless times. And not just by Shiroihana, but by himself, by Sesshomaru, his own son, his own flesh and blood.

"Chichiue," Sesshomaru said, and then swallowed hard, ashamed by the way his voice croaked.

"You're ashamed to have such a beast as your mother," Inutaisho observed. He pinned Sesshomaru, catching his son's eyes as he spoke again. "But you are no better."

Sesshomaru felt his jaw clench, his lips thin. He made an effort to clear his face, to hide his emotion, but knew it was pointless. Inutaisho knew as clearly as he did that it was the truth. Sesshomaru's own actions were little better than Shiroihana's. Sesshomaru thought frantically, casting out for a solution, a way to stop what was happening, to reclaim honor—but he was distracted by emotion and a profound sense of helplessness. There was no turning back. There was no way to salvage this present.

"When I die of Shiroihana's poison you will have my title, my lands—but you will have no honor," Inutaisho said, rumbling with an otherworldly power. "And you can wallow in misery because you'll know every second of the rest of your life that I did not choose you." He leaned closer to Sesshomaru and lowered his voice. "You disgust me. You did not earn my title or my lands. You stole them through trickery. And all of the power you crave, Sesshomaru—" he reached back and tapped Sounga with one hand to demonstrate his meaning. "—will _die_ with me. You cannot steal it. You can only earn it for yourself with honor."

Inutaisho strode away, tall and stiff, but slower than Sesshomaru would have expected.

Stunned, almost witless, Sesshomaru stared after his father. Gradually his eyes drifted down and his lips parted with mute shock as he saw the red droplets that had accumulated in his father's trail.

Daken spoke then, startling Sesshomaru with how close he had come without his notice. "Lord Sesshomaru, you should know that—"

Anger bubbled up and over, explosively. Sesshomaru rounded on Daken and growled, "You will _never_ tell this Sesshomaru what _she_ wanted you to say about this. You will never mention what has happened here to another or this Sesshomaru will end your insignificant life immediately. Do you understand?"

Daken had already prostrated himself, bowing deeply with apology. "Yes, Lord Sesshomaru."

Sesshomaru turned to follow Inutaisho, heedless of what Daken did next or where he went, but the inuyoukai warrior and servant called out to him, unwilling to let him leave. "My lord—what do you wish me to do regarding Lady Shiroihana?"

"You will instruct her never to enter this Sesshomaru's sight again!" Sesshomaru yelled back over his shoulder, without stopping. He stared at his father's back, listening to the clank of armor, willing himself not to see the thin red line in the otherwise pristine snow.

* * *

Izayoi

(Journal Entries to Inuyasha)

Today you came to me covered in mud and crying. The mud I expected from you, but the tears were a complete surprise. I took you to the bathhouse and cleaned all the mud off you while you told me why you were crying. You saw a little girl sitting with the other noblewomen under the shade of the pavilion. Eight years old and already admiring girls! Little Inuyasha, I tried to keep from smiling while you told me your story, but it was so hard!

You told me that you went out and made a gift for her out of all the things you would have liked for yourself. I can imagine how unfitting your gift was, but how I adored you. Your heart is so big, overwhelming. I can see so much of your father in your constant care for others. You are so clever already—if you did not look like a demon I know this little girl would have been friendly. I know all the boys would seek you out for your social wisdom. You would be the most popular boy in the clan. You could become a general, inspiring respect and awe in everyone around you.

She wouldn't have liked your gift if you'd have gotten the chance to give it to her. Mud, rocks, roots, spiders, bugs and bones. Anything you could dig up that you thought was worthwhile. I know because you give me the same gifts that I just cannot make myself appreciate.

But you didn't even get a chance to present your gift. When you approached the girl she ran away crying in fear. My tenacious son, what else was there to do for you then follow her? So that is what you did. But she ran to her teacher, a cruel man who has warned me that he will not tolerate teaching you. I have brought him papers with your penmanship and he believes I forge them to try and get you into his classes. He believes you cannot be smart enough for him to waste his time, that you will only frighten and harm the other students.

I had hoped that this man would never get a chance to poison your mind with these thoughts, but today this foolish girl led you right to him. The things you told me he said to you…I cannot bear to write them down. You must forget them, Inuyasha. You must pit them from your clever mind. This intolerance, this ignorant hatred by everyone toward us—toward you, my son—it breaks my heart. I would trade everything if I could just find us both a place that is free of this. But such a place does not exist. Even if your father still lived and we were raising you together with love in Nejiro castle, there would be hatred. It is like the seasons, inevitable.

I hope that one day it will be like winter, passing away into a new spring.

* * *

Sleeping had become unbearable and impossible. Izayoi found herself sick with an inescapable heartburn that tormented her whenever she lied down. She spent a full week piling blankets and pillows up to create a soft, cushioned wall for her to lean on while on her futon, trying in vain to sleep. The bitterness of winter had passed into mellower days with temperatures rising high enough to melt snow in earnest. Maids and servants whispered with relief that the first cherry trees had begun to bud. The blossoms would not arrive for several more weeks, but the news made Izayoi tenser still.

Her time was running out. Takemaru had said the baby would be born with the cherry blossoms, and his estimation of the child's age was wrong by a month or more. Mikata confirmed Izayoi's thoughts, pronouncing her due any day.

As much as Izayoi feared the labor, the birth, and the likelihood that she, the baby, or both of them would die, she was unavoidably eager for the ordeal to end. The pregnancy hampered her in every movement, from walking to breathing. Every activity had lost its luster as Izayoi found herself exhausted or short of breath and unable to concentrate through it. Her insomnia made her even more moody than the pregnancy by itself would have. She snapped at everyone and then, just as quickly, broke down into tears at the slightest difficulty.

With the first true snow melting Izayoi had expected word from Takemaru. He had promised to return to the palace to be present for the birth. Although Izayoi did not really care whether he was there or not—this wasn't really his baby after all—she became nervous as the days passed and there was no news at all. Yuki fueled her worry, muttering about the tensions in the clan between Ijimeru's supporters and those who favored Takemaru's ascension to ultimate power.

"There could have been a fight over the winter," Yuki told her.

"Don't say things like that," Izayoi muttered from where she was sitting on her futon, wrapped in thick layers of winter kimono. She was sweating profusely for the brazier and the warmer temperatures outside had conspired to make her bedroom far too hot for her. Izayoi did not change her clothing into springtime robes until a certain time of the year, regardless of what the weather was like outside.

"Perhaps he is busy mustering his army," Yuki went on, musing.

Izayoi huffed. "Wars are not waged in the winter even by demons. It's too cold and the snow gets in the way."

Yuki cocked her head. "Not even by demons?"

"No," Izayoi said. The child was leaden in her belly. Her head was thick. She thought, _Inutaisho told me that._ And for a moment slipped into a waking dream where she was sitting on his futon in Nejiro, staring at his naked, silhouetted body…

Then, abruptly, a sharp pain tore through her abdomen, smashing apart the pleasant dream-memory. Izayoi stiffened and hissed through her teeth, gritting them.

"My lady?" Yuki asked, alarmed.

The pain lingered for several seconds and then suddenly disappeared. Izayoi blinked and swallowed thickly. She looked at Yuki and nodded silently at her unspoken question. "I'm fine."

Yuki shifted and shuffled closer to Izayoi on her hands and knees. "I know that look, my lady. You were in pain! Was it a contraction?"

"Never mind it," Izayoi snapped. "Fetch me some tea and ask for a sedative. I'm very tired."

"Yes."

While she was alone, Izayoi considered Rini, Sumi, Yuki, Mikata, and all of the other women that had filled her life over the last few months. How would they fare once she was gone? If Inutaisho took her away then Takemaru would lose his powerful position in the clan, leaving Ijimeru and Rini safely in charge. And if she died in childbirth or was killed when Takemaru discovered her deception, these human women would never speak her name again with kindness. They would instead remember her with hatred and disgust.

_Let them think I was taken by Inutaisho against my will, that I go to a life of misery. Let them only pity me and remember me with curiosity. _She prayed for Inutaisho's arrival and rescue, staring at the closed, shuttered windows and letting her eyes water and smart in the light flickering from the brazier.

When the tea came she drank it as fast as she could manage with the crushing press of the baby's expanding body on her stomach and leaned back against her pillows and cushions, seeking sleep.

* * *

For the next several days Izayoi was mostly bedridden with exhaustion and tension-fueled insomnia. Pains streaked across her belly at random times, but they came only singly or in two and threes, never lasting more than an hour. Mikata told her that this was normal in many women. It was the body practicing for labor. The pains were blinding but short-lived and this gave Izayoi hope. She could endure such momentary pains easily.

Finally a day came when she did not feel sluggish and exhausted, as if trapped inside her own rotund body. She rose and bathed, ate a little, and joined the women for some needlework and poetry with a springtime theme. The day was warm enough that the women ventured outside under the shade of parasols carried by servants.

The women sat in a place that had been cleared of snow and chatted for a time, gossiping between themselves and their maids. Izayoi listened attentively and did not miss the interested glances that the others gave her, noting her intensely large frame, the nearness of labor and birth.

"Lord Takemaru is coming," Shingi said, throwing Izayoi a sly glance. "He'll be here tomorrow afternoon."

Izayoi blinked, startled by the information. "Where did you hear that?" she asked, surprised that word hadn't reached her through a letter.

Shingi turned her full attention to Izayoi with a hostile, authoritative air. "Soldiers have been filtering into the palace. I asked a handsome one what was going on and he said that they were the first wave of a small group of Takemaru's army coming to protect this place."

"Protect it?" Izayoi echoed.

"That's what he said," Shingi replied, muttering. Her tone said, _Are you accusing me of lying?_

"Protect us from what?" Rini asked with open alarm. Izayoi was grateful to her for speaking this next question and taking Shingi's attention off her.

Shingi shrugged. "He didn't say and I didn't ask." Her eyes flashed as she averted them, staring into her lap, away from Rini and Izayoi both. They were all thinking the same thing—Ijimeru and Takemaru were going to split the Sestsuna clan in two with a civil war. That would put all the women in peril, but especially Rini and Izayoi.

Only Izayoi felt her heart quicken with a second possibility. What if Takemaru knew that Inutaisho planned to come for her? What if Sesshomaru had betrayed his father and Izayoi? It would be a death sentence. She made up her mind to find one of the soldiers Shingi had seen and question him for herself.

Before she could find a way to sneak away from the women, Sumi said, "That's strange, Shingi. I also saw warriors, but they weren't of the clan at all." She paused while the women absorbed this and then said, "They were demon slayers."

"Come to protect this place too?" Rini said, swiftly connecting the two observations. She did not stop herself from looking to Izayoi with a cold suspicion.

Izayoi felt her stomach and chest go cold, then hot with dread.

Sumi shook her head. "Unlike Shingi I made a point of asking about them as much as I could. There were only three of them, including a young woman."

"A woman?" Musei said incredulously. "What was a _woman_ doing with warriors like demon slayers? She would be devoured at once!"

"Are you sure they were demon slayers?" Shingi asked, clearly doubting the older woman's perceptive skills.

"It was the woman I spoke with," Sumi went on, ignoring Shingi's doubt. "She said that women from her village often train while young, before marriage, to aid the men and boys of their families. They need everyone to slay such beasts."

"How awful," Rini murmured.

"What did she say they were here for?" Musei asked, raising her voice with a rare burst of impatience.

Sumi cleared her throat and the wrinkles around her eyes and lips crinkled and flexed. "She claimed that Lord Takemaru hired them to watch over the rice fields. She said there's been springtime raids by small demons and that this year they did not want a repeat of it."

Izayoi nonchalantly searched the other women's reactions as Sumi spoke, guessing whether or not they believed the demon slayer's tale. She had been terrified that it would be something these women would know was an outright lie, like an infestation in the palace or something akin to that. Yet the demon slayer woman's story would hold up for Sumi because these women were cut off from the village below. They would have little word of any kind of raid. But what were the demon slayers saying to men who asked after their presence? And why had they been admitted into the palace at all? Perhaps the story was true…?

"Good!" Rini exclaimed, grinning with relief. "I will sleep better at night knowing they are here! I will have to thank Lord Takemaru when he arrives for his sound decision."

"Lady Izayoi should be the one to do that!" Shingi snapped.

"We can both do it," Rini said, smiling at Izayoi. It was a complex smile that did not reach her eyes. Izayoi returned it, melancholy and distracted.

Maids arrived with small platters with teacups and teakettles on them. The women chattered happily and Izayoi tried to stay engaged with the conversation, adding to it here and there when it was lighthearted and pleasant, but she was uncomfortable and as tense as shamisen strings. She was lifting her teacup to her lips when pain stabbed into her, as sharp as a knife. Her hand quivered and she sucked in air in a little gasp.

Tea spilled, dribbling down into her lap and the combined heat, wetness, and pain made Izayoi yelp and drop the cup. It thunked dully on the gray-green grass—still flattened and half-dead from the recent brush of winter. The women all looked to her with surprise and their eyes widened with anticipation.

Sumi touched Izayoi's shoulder, trying to comfort her. "Are you all right?"

Izayoi was still gritting her teeth, waiting for this pain to pass. It took its time but finally passed over her, leaving her bathed in a thick, sticky sweat. She realized she was panting and felt her face flush all the way to her ears with embarrassment. "I'm fine."

"Oh no you're not!" Rini said, grinning hard. "Is it real labor?"

Izayoi didn't answer the other woman. Instead she excused herself. "I think I had better go change out of this and get it washed before it stains permanently." Izayoi left the women and headed back inside the palace at the fastest pregnant waddle she could manage. Yuki followed swiftly after her, radiating concern and excitement.

In Izayoi's dressing room, the maid's pestering was almost unbearable. "Was it real labor this time, my lady? I know you've been having false contractions. Was this one different or more of the same? Should I summon Mikata? The baby isn't coming too soon is it?" She made a high pitched noise like a whine in her throat. "Oh, you have to hold on until Lord Takemaru gets here!"

"I'm afraid I have little choice in all of this," Izayoi muttered, raising her arms as Yuki secured a new obi around Izayoi's kimono and then brought out a long, thick pink kimono overcoat. Before the overcoat was straightened and adjusted to Yuki's liking, another pain cut through Izayoi. She flinched and nearly shrugged the overcoat off her shoulders as she reached for her belly. Yuki watched with wide eyes.

When the pain had passed Izayoi had little doubt that this time the baby was ready. These pains were worse than the others, and already she could feel her body changing rapidly, transitioning into the long, grueling process of birth. She looked at Yuki and suddenly, feeling weak, felt tears spring into her eyes. "Call for Mikata."

* * *

Night fell and the pains continued. Yuki came and went, helping the healer as she waited over Izayoi, counseling her about the upcoming hard labor and birth, offering hope and distracting her. She could not speak frankly as Izayoi desperately wanted her to, and both women knew they were putting on a charade for the benefit of others in the palace who might overhear or might become suspicious when the healer failed to prepare the mother to be for the actual infant she would soon hold.

"When he's born," Mikata said in a gravelly voice, "I will teach you how to hold him properly. A baby's head is his most vulnerable spot. You must always support it and watch out for it. When you breastfeed him you'll have to hold him in just the right way or he'll have poor digestion and you will have unbearably sore nipples."

Izayoi concentrated on watching Mikata's face, the way her mouth, jaw, lips, and eyes all moved—not on the things she was saying. She knew she would never hold this baby for more than an instant. She would never suckle him long enough to have sore nipples. Whenever the words sank in on her just a little, Izayoi choked, fighting fearful sobs.

Mikata paused each time Izayoi started to cry, waiting for her to regain her composure, and then would press on, as if torturing her. But it was expected. It needed to be done.

Mikata slept in Izayoi's bedroom the first night. The pains were enough that they disturbed Izayoi's sleep, but they were still spread out far enough apart that she felt fairly rested by the time the sun came up. She had only two of the women visit her that morning—Sumi and Rini—and of course none of the guards or other men of the palace as it would have been unseemly. As often as she could as the hours progressed Izayoi came up with errands to send Yuki away so she could question Mikata in whispers.

"When the time comes, my lady, I will have Maya of the demon slayers come dressed as a maid carrying a large basket of swaddling." Mikata explained to her once as soon as Yuki had gone to fetch Izayoi some pickles.

Izayoi, breathing hard as another pain descended on her, managed to nod. Mikata stroked her back reassuringly, half-chanting half-singing a song to inspire courage in laboring mothers. Izayoi gripped her blankets, clenching her fists so much that her nails bit into her palm. After the pain had passed, Mikata gently swept Izayoi's hair from her face and wiped the sweat from her brow as she went on, whispering. "I will send Yuki for more hot water at the last possible moment before he is born. We will only have a few moments alone with Maya before Yuki will return. If he is not born while she is away…" Mikata made a face. "I'm afraid there will be nothing I can do to save either of you."

Izayoi nodded. "I understand." As the healer drew away, Izayoi snatched the older woman's hand and looked up into her face. "Thank you. Thank you."

Mikata smiled, a sad expression entered her eyes, something like pity. "It's been a pleasure to know you, Lady Izayoi."

"May Heaven reward your kindness," Izayoi said, breathlessly. She released Mikata's hand and tried to haul herself up from the futon. "How much longer do you think before—before…"

"Before the end?" Mikata asked, finishing the sentence. Izayoi nodded and didn't look to the healer as she waited for the answer.

"I can't be sure. Every birth—all births are different. Yours has been progressing well and you are still strong. My best guess is that he will be born tonight, after the sun has set."

At that moment Yuki reentered the room, carrying a small tray of pickles. She set it beside Izayoi's bed and then asked, "What did you say? The baby will be born tonight?"

Mikata nodded. "It is impossible to know when, but I think it will be tonight. Her water has not yet broken though. It could be another day or more."

"I hope it isn't tonight," Yuki muttered, frowning. She licked her lips. "The servants have been saying tonight is an inauspicious night for the birth. They make me so mad! They were placing bets on the child's health."

"Don't say such things," Izayoi ordered her, closing her eyes. "You'll make them true." _Yes, you will._

* * *

The labor intensified, confining Izayoi now completely to her room. Although Yuki had suggested several times that Izayoi should go to the birthing pavilion, a secluded portion of the palace that was more open to the outside in an effort to aerate the stuffy indoors in a belief that any miasma of illness would be blown away from the mother and child, increasing their chances of survival. Izayoi claimed that she was not comfortable there, out of fear that she might be sabotaged by spies. This argument convinced Yuki wholly that Izayoi belonged in the seclusion of her bedroom.

Mikata explained other elements of her plan in bits and pieces whenever Yuki was out of earshot and Izayoi was between contractions. She would have Maya the demon slayer disguise herself very thoroughly, dyeing her hair gray and using makeup to age her face and dressing as a maid. Mikata herself would go to the kitchens to grab raw meat and anything else that would roughly approximate the size and shape of a newborn. She would swaddle that and hide it beneath Izayoi's floorboards. That swaddled lump of bleeding meat and garbage would stand in for the living baby, evidence that no one would want to unwrap to verify—at least that was the hope.

By afternoon the day had grown bitterly cold. Snow rolled in, and soon Yuki was complaining about the cold. She was outraged that the snow was actually sticking while she helped Mikata give Izayoi a sponge bath.

"It's supposed to be spring! Lady Izayoi, you _mustn't _have Lord Takemaru's heir tonight! It is such a bad omen!"

"Hush girl," Mikata snapped while Izayoi whimpered and clutched at the futon and the covers as another contraction hit her. "Perhaps snow is a good omen. The ground is ugly outside and the trees haven't regained their leaves. The snow will be a return to beauty."

"Cold is _never_ auspicious!" Yuki protested.

A voice called out from the doorway where the screen door was closed. Izayoi did not register it through her contraction, but as soon as it passed she was aware of the sudden flurry of activity around her as the two women struggled to pull her upright and dress her. "What's going on?" she asked them.

"Lord Takemaru is here! He's demanded to see you!" Yuki replied, sounding strangled and stressed as she heaved Izayoi up from the futon.

"He can't come in now," Izayoi mumbled.

"There is no blood contamination yet. It isn't forbidden just yet," Mikata replied.

"Why would he want to see me like this?" Izayoi asked, inflamed with fear. Her heart was tight and pounding with more than just the pain and stress of labor.

The two women did not answer, merely kept working. They managed to put on Izayoi's under robe and move her to the tatami matting, helping her kneel so that she could at least tryo to bow in greeting to her husband when he entered the room. Then Mikata took up a position behind her and Yuki went and opened the door, bowing rapidly as men spilled through it immediately.

Izayoi gazed up at them, gawking. She searched their faces quickly and realized that they were soldiers who averted their eyes from her, but their faces were dark, scowling with disgust. Was it the labor? Or something else?

Takemaru was the last to enter, slower than the other men. The moment Izayoi saw his face she knew at once that all of her plans with Mikata would fail this night. Something had already gone wrong outside of their control.

Takemaru knew the truth.

"Lady," Takemaru said, not using her name at all. "I am…sorry to disturb you at this time." His voice had a frightening edge. His eyes were narrowed into blackened slits. Izayoi shivered seeing him but she did not cry. She was beyond despair, too absorbed in the nearness of birth and the constant flow of her contractions. Her mind was clouded, her emotions oddly detached.

She knew everyone expected her to greet him, to bow, to do _something._ She began to fall forward, shuffling awkwardly around the bulk of her belly, but then another contraction streaked through her and she froze, gripping her abdomen and letting out a little cry. When the contraction faded at long last, leaving her winded and puffing, alarm jolted Izayoi as she felt substantial wetness between her legs for the first time. Was this her water breaking at last? The last imminent sign of birth?

"I must speak with you," Takemaru said gruffly.

Izayoi could barely focus on him. She glanced at him momentarily and then twisted at the neck to call to Mikata. "I think—my water has broken…"

Mikata stirred anxiously. "My lord, she is no longer pure. You must leave this room until the birth has passed and the blood contamination has been purified again."

"No," Takemaru growled out. He motioned at the men. "Go, get out. All of you. This is not a place for birth. She belongs in the pavilion."

"No!" Izayoi cried, shaking her head. "Please, I don't want to give birth there. It's too cold, the weather—"

"Silence!" Takemaru roared. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the men had filed out. It was just him and the women. He sneered and strode forward, a promise of violence in his every motion. Izayoi cringed, shielding herself with her arms futilely as Takemaru snatched her up by her arm and shoulder. She let out a cry and struggled feebly, which only succeeded in earning her a vicious slap.

The sound rang out through the room, flesh on flesh. Izayoi stiffened. Her face burned with the slap. She began to tremble. She almost missed Takemaru's next words through her shock.

"You will not dishonor me by disobeying me, whore."

Yuki let out a gasp.

Too much of a survivor to give up, Izayoi forced herself to look back at Takemaru. "What are you saying?" she asked, letting her voice crack with her terror and pain. "How could you say that!"

Takemaru shook her. The motion was violent enough that pain tore through Izayoi's neck and she hissed with it. "The Dog's Bitch came to see me this winter," Takemaru snarled. "She told me the truth about you, whore."

He released her and Izayoi crumpled, collapsing on weak legs. She caught herself with her hands softening the fall and then groaned, doubling over as a contraction ripped through her.

"Please my lord," Mikata said. "This place is impure…"

"This entire place is impure!" Takemaru roared. "There will be a battle. War is coming! I am taking control of the army and I will have my vengeance for this atrocity against my honor." He unsheathed his sword, filing the room with the sound of ringing metal.

Yuki cried out, sobbing near the doorway, finally fleeing.

Mikata stood up and moved to intercept Takemaru. "My lord, please! She is your wife and the child is yours!"

"If you believe that woman than you are a fool!" Takemaru tossed his sword onto the floor in front of where Izayoi was quivering, bathed in sweat, recovering from the latest contraction. "I am reclaiming my honor from you and the Dog, starting now. Take your own life, Izayoi. Show me that your soul is still human somewhere."

Izayoi looked quickly between Takemaru and the sword in front of her, thinking fast. She heard and saw the pain in her husband's face and knew he was in excruciating pain of his own. She refused to give in.

"Lord Takemaru! You would believe _Shiroihana_ over me?" she shrieked. "Have you forgotten our time in her home? Have you forgotten how she humiliated you? Have you forgotten how she lied even when the truth was in plain sight? Have you forgotten the way she told you that your calligraphy was unreadable? Do you remember _anything?"_

Takemaru blinked and took a step back as if she had struck him. He was silent for a long time. The silence in the room was all-consuming, never ending until it seemed that there had never been such a thing as words or any sound at all. Finally Takemaru knelt in a sudden motion that made both Mikata and Izayoi flinch, but their alarm was for nothing as the young lord only picked up his sword and sheathed it rapidly. His face was bright red, his brow bright and shining with perspiration. He turned and strode toward the door.

"Wait!" Izayoi called. "Lord Takemaru…"

He halted but did not turn back to her.

"What did you mean when you said war is coming? Aren't we safe here? Please…I have heard nothing all winter. Is the clan safe?" _Is Inutaisho coming for me?_

"Word has come that the Dog is on the move. Messengers have brought me word that he knows where you are and has come to reclaim you. I have a contingent of men here to protect this palace and evacuate the noblewomen," he said. "But it would seem you cannot travel with them."

Izayoi closed her eyes. _I am going to live. Dearest, please come for me soon. _She thought quickly of the other women, the humans, and almost sighed with relief. _Rini will be safe. These people will go on without me._

"What an unusual expression for a woman being told that her tormentor is coming to continue torturing her," Takemaru said bitterly and Izayoi's eyes popped open with alarm as she realized he had turned his head to look at her after all.

"Please," Izayoi said. "I am weak. I can hardly think through my pains…"

Takemaru pointed to Mikata. "Take her to the birthing pavilion and do not move her again."

* * *

Endnote: Sorry again for the continual delay. I am indeed still alive, I am just busy. Life gets in the way. Sigh.


	34. The Way of the Sword

A/N: I am actually typing this from a recliner some ten or more feet from a TV screen that has been plugged into my computer. On a wireless keyboard with a wireless mouse. Crazy what technology can do these days.

I do not own them, just for the record.

* * *

Last chapter: Izayoi went into labor. Sess found out that his mother had poisoned Inutaisho and decided he would have nothing further to do with her. Takemaru confronted Izayoi, calling her a whore and told her that he had brought soldiers to protect the palace from attack by Inutaisho. Izayoi and the midwife's plan to smuggle the newborn baby out with the demon slayer family who had agreed to raise it was in jeopardy and seemed unlikely to work when Takemaru ordered Izayoi to go to the birthing pavilion.

* * *

In the cicada's cry  
No sign can foretell  
How soon it must die. …Basho Matsuo

* * *

Sesshomaru  
(Poem constructed after Inutaisho's death)

_The phoenix cannot rise,  
for the wolf has eaten its wings_

* * *

**The Way of the Sword**

Ryukotsusei would have been a menace, a challenge for the great Inutaisho even with his legendary swords. Yet whatever Shiroihana had done to him had stripped Inutaisho of his youkai powers. He could hardly transform Tetsusaiga for the fight with the dragon, let alone wield it.

Sesshomaru and Daken took a position a few miles away, perched atop rocky rubble that had once been flowering, grassy hillside. Sesshomaru's boots were stained black with char from the soot leftover by the dragon's carnage. Months of unchecked destruction had left the Musashi plains a depressing wasteland, fueling Sesshomaru's bitter fury. He stood a safe distance from the battle between the dragon and his father, a useless spectator, a vulture waiting for death.

Daken was smart enough that he stayed silent throughout the battle, allowing Sesshomaru to forget that the old, grizzled messenger was present at all and had been part of Shiroihana's betrayal and scheming. Shiroihana had _used_ Sesshomaru, played with him like a cat with its favorite toy. But Daken must have been privy to her plans. He had known what was coming and had taken sides, choosing his allegiance once and for all. Sesshomaru would never forget this servant's breech in loyalty and had Daken been foolish enough to speak to his furious lord, Sesshomaru might have killed him n the spot.

But no such thing happened. Daken remained alive, though silent and motionless as one of the dead.

The battle played out for a very long time. Hours passed and the sun moved relentlessly through the sky. Sesshomaru did not feel its faint warmth because it could not compare to the broiling, seething mass of emotion inside. The sky was clear, almost cheery. It would be a cold, bitter night. Sesshomaru could idly smell the snow building somewhere distantly—just barely through the stink of ash, fire, dragon stink and his father's blood.

Ryukotsusei spent a lot of time stalling for time by taunting Inutaisho, calling him weak and pathetic, challenging him to use his infamous swords. It was a mark of the dragon's foolishness and discomfiture.

He found his mind drifting toward gentler times when he had been physically immature—and emotionally as well, if he could admit that privately to himself—and Inutaisho had taught him how to fight with a sword. He had prepared Sesshomaru for his first encounters with demons larger than himself, counseling him on how to read their boasts and blustering.

_All youkai will brag about their strength and taunt you in any way they can during a battle when their life is at stake, _he'd said. _You will show your superiority to them by remaining silent. It will set you apart and infuriate them, weakening them. _

Inutaisho held true to his own lessons while he battled the dragon. Sesshomaru had never seen his father in such a large battle, but now he despised his mother all the more for artificially weakening Inutaisho. The Lord of the West was brilliant in form, strong of limb and body. He managed to wield and transform Tetsusaiga several times in the battle, sometimes to impress the dragon, but mostly to push Ryukotsusei backward. The dragon had immense size on his side and Inutaisho displayed amazing agility and stamina in spite of the fact that he had been poisoned. Sesshomaru was not sure that he himself could have performed as well, even being completely healthy. It was experience and confidence, a long history and knowledge that propelled Inutaisho through this hurdle.

Sesshomaru had not been certain that his father would survive the battle, but even as Inutaisho continued to accumulate injuries, to slow down slightly and breathe harder and faster than Sesshomaru had ever seen him, he began to feel a strange sensation rippling through him, growing. If Inutaisho died in this battle Sesshomaru would honor his sire's wishes to his dying days. He would take in Izayoi and her abomination-spawn—Sesshomaru's half-brother now—and give her an income, supply her with the best food, clothing, and guards. He would take it upon himself to insert himself as a teacher and father-like figure for his father's bastard son, even though he might despise both of them as lesser beings.

He would do it all in penance for Inutaisho.

And then he would think, _No. Chichiue cannot die in this battle. I will not allow it. If he cannot win it and survive, then I will intervene. I will save him._

But in spite of Inutaisho's growing weakness and the strange fact that his wounds would not stop bleeding, pouring out into the ashes of Ryukotsusei's destruction, Inutaisho did not falter and he did not fail. In some strange, speedy stroke, Inutaisho stunned the dragon with a bright burst from one of his swords—Sesshomaru wasn't certain which it was—and transformed himself into his true form. It was something Sesshomaru hadn't thought Inutaisho could do any longer because of Shiroihana's poison.

The massive, behemoth white dog was stained with red blood, dripping down his chest and shoulders. He lunged faintly at the dragon, who was still reared back and cringing from the blast of light from Inutaisho's sword. It happened quickly, so fast that Sesshomaru and Daken did not realize that the battle was over. Inutaisho bit into the dragon's upper chest and very suddenly the Musashi plains were still and silent as death.

Inutaisho diminished, shrinking down into his bipedal form. He stood at the base of the dragon's arched body, breathing long and deep. Rocks slid from the side of the cliff where Ryukotsusei had paled, seeming to mesh into the rock, as if trying to become part of the earth. The world seemed dead, emptied out of everything else but these desolate plains and these two combatants and spectators and the now comatose dragon.

Inutaisho knelt in the distance and picked up one of his swords, sheathing it swiftly. He glanced over his shoulder once, the long white cord of his hair shuddering like silk in the wind. Sesshomaru could just make out the brightness of his golden iris and then it was gone as Inutaisho turned away and began walking with a slow, heavy tread. He was heading east, toward the Takeyabu province.

For the first time, Daken spoke. "He will go to the girl."

Sesshomaru sniffed, briefly startled by the servant's voice. Rage had left him, leaving only a strange numbness that he knew would soon turn into raw despair and loss. Regret.

"Our agreement stands," Sesshomaru murmured, blinking as he recalled the previous months of standoff, of fear and discussion between himself and Shiroihana. _How much was a lie? How much was manipulation? Was any of it real?_

"If he rescues the girl he will be unstoppable," Daken said, quietly.

Sesshomaru lifted his head, smelling the wind. _Snow._

_He is already unstoppable,_ Sesshomaru thought but aloud said, "Leave. Now. I will kill you if you follow me."

To his peril, Daken hesitated. Sesshomaru knew the servant was frightened of what would happen not only to himself, but to Shiroihana and Sesshomaru if Inutaisho did not die of his wounds. "Lord Sesshomaru," he said and dropped onto his knees. "Forgive me but your mother commands that you finish your father off. End his life before he can dishonor himself and your family any fur—"

Sesshomaru whipped around, flicking his two fingers of his left hand, unleashing the green spectral energy of his poisonous whip. It caught Daken around the throat and at once silenced him, making him gag and choke. For a moment Sesshomaru pulled it tight, considering lopping off the other demon's head—then thought better of it. Daken was a fool, but he would rather die than betray his masters and as long as Sesshomaru remembered the order of those two masters—Shiroihana and then Sesshomaru—then Daken was far better alive than dead. He would regret dispensing with such a useful servant later.

He released the whip and repeated himself gruffly, "Leave. Go to Mother and give her my message."

Daken was coughing on the ground, clutching at his throat. His fingers came away lightly covered in blood. "Message?" he croaked.

"She is banished from these lands. This Sesshomaru will not see her." He snarled down at the blackened, sooty ground. "Go!"

Daken hobbled up onto his feet and began to rush away, kicking up dust with his booted feet as he went.

Sesshomaru turned and began moving at a swift pace, eager to intercept Inutaisho, though unsure of what he wanted to say to his own father. Did he want to apologize? Did he want to swear allegiance? Did he want to offer to end his father's life as his mother had wished? Would he help Inutaisho rescue Izayoi?

For the first time in his life—though not the last—Sesshomaru could not fathom his own thoughts or plans. He knew only that he must see his father, waylay him briefly with some pretext.

This would be his final exchange with his beloved, misunderstood Chichiue.

* * *

It was several hours before Inutaisho stopped. He had not traveled far and seemed, to Sesshomaru anyway to be conserving his strength—or perhaps calculating his next, final moves. It did not strike Sesshomaru likely that his father had paused in his journey so soon just to hear his wretched pureblooded son's final words. No, that was not what was happening here.

Inutaisho had walked until he reached the sea. It was the wrong side of Japan, the western side facing China. He was standing straight and erect, proud and gleaming in the snowy moonlight. Though he was bleeding—sending off an irony reek to Sesshomaru's sensitive nose—he did not shiver or appear weak in these last moments.

For a short time as Sesshomaru approached Inutaisho made no sign of any awareness of his son at all. He seemed distracted, staring out to sea, at the oddly colored moon, at the bright waves frothing onto shore. Sesshomaru stayed silent, searching for courage and anger instead of the despair that threatened to encroach on his heart. He could not think very clearly. His mind was muddled, torn between racing incoherently and absolute stillness. He sensed his father's stillness, anticipation. He longed to speak and yet found that he could not.

Finally he focused his gaze on his father's swords, the outline was clear in this bright moonlight. He used that wound—the fact that Inutaisho had refused to bequeath the swords to Sesshomaru, who was the only one who could properly use them in the first place—to propel himself forward, closing the distance to his father so that they could rush at one another and battle hand-to-hand. Inutaisho had never allowed him to approach so close before while they were on bad, even openly hostile terms. Normally Inutaisho would have maneuvered long ago to watch his son warily. This change in behavior further disturbed Sesshomaru—and conversely it fueled his anger.

"Are you going, Chichiue?" he asked, at last breaking the reverent silence. His voice competed easily in spite of the viciously cold wind off the sea.

"Are you going to stop me, Sesshomaru?" Inutaisho asked, still showing an appalling lack of concern for the fact that he had his back exposed and open to his son.

"I'm not going to stop you, however, before you go, I ask that you hand over the swords Tetsusaiga and Sounga to me." Sesshomaru stared fixedly at his father's back, willing the older inuyoukai to turn and _look_ at him.

"If I say I won't give them to you…would you kill your own father?" Inutaisho asked.

The question startled Sesshomaru though he refused to show as much, even in spite of the fact that Inutaisho wasn't looking at him. He found that his mind was as empty as the sea before them, flushed with a spurt of panic. He wanted to express himself, to deny Inutaisho's charges—_but Shiroihana had always said that was his destiny. _It was, traditionally, the way that a son replaced his father, ceremonially taking his power by ending his life. Before Shiroihana had betrayed him by poisoning Inutaisho behind his back Sesshomaru had been ready to kill Inutaisho if he survived the fight with Ryukotsusei. How that kill happened would be up to Inutaisho. It could have been an honor-killing, with Sesshomaru releasing his father. That would have been Sesshomaru's preferred outcome, but it seemed just as likely that Inutaisho would choose a death match between them, a duel that could only end with both their deaths.

The silence between them had gone on far too long. Sesshomaru wanted to part his lips and say, _I will no longer obey Mother's wishes._ Or perhaps, if he had been able to be honest with both Inutaisho and himself, he could have said, _I do not want Chichiue to die this night. _

Instead the silence spoke an answer of its own and Sesshomaru—helpless—allowed it. The silence said, _I would kill Chichiue for power. I would kill Chichiue because it is what Mother wants and expects. I have never loved Chichiue._

Inutaisho gave a small sigh, barely audible over the wind. When he spoke his voice was blank, lacking any emotion. "Do you desire power that much? Why do you seek power?"

These questions also baffled Sesshomaru, but he refused to sit silently by this time. He spoke the first words that came to his mind, unbidden. "I must walk the path of conquest. Power is necessary in order to walk that path."

For a moment Sesshomaru blinked, realizing that this sounded familiar. He recalled a day some months ago while Inutaisho was imprisoned inside Nejiro and Sesshomaru acted as a guard and messenger of sorts. He had realized then that _both_ of his parents had views of him that involved his namesake—Shiroihana's infamous and very deceased younger brother. To intimidate Inutaisho at that time Sesshomaru had adopted an act that he thought Inutaisho would expect of him if he were nothing more than his namesake, a reincarnation. It had worked and had been surprisingly easy. Now Sesshomaru found the same sentiments surfacing and for the first time a tremor of fear passed through him as he wondered if those sentiments were truly his own or—he stopped, unable to entertain the idea any further. _I am in control here,_ he thought. _I am Sesshomaru. __This__ Sesshomaru. _

"Conquest, huh?" Inutaisho repeated back and snorted with open disgust this time. "Sesshomaru, is there something you want to protect?"

_Something to protect?_

Sesshomaru had heard this question recently, only a few days prior, just before he had released Inutaisho from Nejiro. Actually, it had been more specific. Would Sesshomaru protect his mother from Inutaisho?

Again Sesshomaru sensed a strange test. There was no one in his life that needed or deserved his protection, yet he narrowed his eyes and thought _hard_ on his answer. Inutaisho waited with his back to him, seemingly content to freeze in place as the wind blew and tugged at his long lock of silvered hair.

Before Shiroihana had poisoned Inutaisho Sesshomaru might have at least considered answering with his mother as that something. And there was nothing he could do to help Inutaisho, who was bleeding freely into the snow and sand at his side on the beach. Besides, even if Sesshomaru had volunteered such a thing Inutaisho would have turned it down, probably considering it an insult. Inutaisho had fought wars as a leader, alone among many, surpassing all. Why would he stoop at the moment of his death and accept aid?

There were no other candidates inside Sesshomaru's mind. He did not consider Izayoi or her unborn child at all. They were as invisible to him in this final moment with his father as the wind blowing through his hair.

He gave the only answer he could, the truth. "This Sesshomaru has no need to pursue such an endeavor."

Inutaisho shifted fractionally and then, suddenly, transformed, looming high into the air. The scent of blood wafted down to Sesshomaru and in the same moment the young heir to the Western Lands stiffened and backed away slightly, preparing for a battle that never came. Inutaisho left him as abruptly as he had transformed, leaving the beach and heading for the trees. After that he would use the sky, draining much of his energy to travel in such a speedy, superfluous way.

In his wake was a steady dribble of large, fat blood, brilliantly crimson on the snow.

Alone on the beach Sesshomaru stared at the blood for a long time and then, slow and unbidden, his father's last words came back to him: _Is there something you want to protect?_

As the trees rustled and whispered amongst themselves, Sesshomaru recalled Inutaisho's journey, his upcoming rescue of Izayoi from the humans—her unborn child. He had sworn to his father that he would protect them and shelter them after Inutaisho's death.

He had just forgotten that promise in this exchange.

Nausea bloomed in his gut and Sesshomaru scowled. To the uncaring wind he muttered, "That's ridiculous." _Ridiculous. _He was pathetic, helpless. Unable to change or take back his words now. He had determined fate of some kind and it already tasted of failure.

He turned to leave, walking gradually down the beach, trying to empty his mind before he would follow his father east toward Takeyabu province to be there to collect Izayoi had the abomination that would become his younger brother. Unwelcome inside his mind was the image of his mother and her voice, recurring over and over inside his head: _We are as ants to Fate, Sesshomaru. _

On this night—and perhaps for most of his life—Sesshomaru had indeed been an ant.

* * *

Izayoi

(Journal Entries to Inuyasha)

The older you become Inuyasha, the more I fear for you. I used to look forward to the days when you would walk and talk and play—you were and still are the only star left in my sky. Now I miss the simpler days when you were a tiny child and wholly dependent on me for everything. I could shelter you from curious glances, and when others expressed their distaste for your inuyoukai heritage you did not understand their words so they could not hurt you.

Now I cannot undo the damage they cause, bit by bit. The words hurt and I've seen you ostracized. I've tried to protect you. I've scolded the children who tried to tease you or harm you, but it's not enough anymore. I know you can see what's happening now. You know that I am your only ally and you cannot understand why this is so. For all my concern and my effort, you must grow up; you must play with others your own age. But I'm afraid that will never happen among these people. I cannot make them like you. I cannot make them see how sweet you are, how clever, and brave.

I know there is nothing I can do about all of this. I was warned that this is the life waiting for all hanyou, but knowing doesn't make it any easier. But as a mother who loves her son I will never cease trying.

* * *

In the birthing pavilion the air was frigid and bitter, yet somehow the change was a relief from the humid, stuffy air inside Izayoi's room. Mikata, her only servant now, laid out a space for her to lie down. The sight and sensation of blood between her legs made Izayoi whimper but Mikata hushed her. "Blood is normal, my lady."

Before Izayoi had even settled into her new position another contraction swept through her, like ripples over a pond's surface. She clutched at Mikata's hand, gasping and squeezing out a few tears as the cramping changed, becoming pressure. It was a long, hard contraction and Izayoi knew nothing of the outside world while she endured it.

At last when it had ended she slumped and allowed Mikata to help her lie down. She regretted the change in position a moment later as the weight of her belly pressed into her back. "Please," she choked out. "Tell me it is almost over."

Mikata threw Izayoi's kimono overcoat haphazardly across her prone body and reached between Izayoi's legs with a confidence that only experience could give her. Izayoi grimaced as the midwife checked her and then pulled back with a solemn nod. "He's coming very soon. You will start feeling the desire to push, my lady. With the next contraction, follow the instinct."

She rose to her feet and moved past the screen that shielded Izayoi from the open doors that lead to the verandah and the world outside. Izayoi cried out, frightened of being alone, sensing death close by. "Where are you going? Please, stay."

"I must fetch supplies," Mikata told her. "The baby will need swaddling and you need water for drinking and cleaning. He's coming fast, I mustn't delay."

"Hurry," Izayoi pleaded and then gnashed her teeth together to keep from crying out as another contraction tore into her. The pressure built, oppressive and blinding. She clenched her fists and strained, panting.

She was startled to realize that Mikata was still standing near the screen after her contraction had passed. "Don't hold back," Mikata advised. "He's a large baby; you may be pushing for some time. Conserve your strength but don't tarry."

Thickly, Izayoi asked, "What about the demon slayer? Will you bring her?"

Mikata gave a slow nod. "I will try. I will bring her outside the pavilion, at the edge of the gardens where she might escape notice of the soldiers and the guards. When he is born I will bring him to her at once."

"Then the plan…" Izayoi rasped.

"Yes, we will still try to go through with it. Whatever Takemaru does to you after the birth cannot be avoided, but the baby we can save, my lady."

Izayoi let out a small, strangled sob but quickly regained her composure in order to thank the other woman. "Thank you."

Mikata was gone then and the contractions rolled onward. Izayoi quickly sweated through her robes and through much of her bedding. Her hair was plastered to her face by the time Mikata arrived back with water and cloth. She cleaned Izayoi's brow and checked her progress, praising and encouraging her. "It won't be long now, Lady."

Izayoi, lost in a world of nearly-continuous contractions, barely registered the other woman's words. Mikata forced Izayoi to drink something to wet her mouth and throat and replace the water she'd lost in perspiration, then left again. Before she knew what was happening, Izayoi was in the birthing pavilion alone, and with the next contraction—a particularly large and ferocious one—the urge to push came on undeniably for the first time. Izayoi curled up a little, bearing down for as long as she could stand it, then collapsing.

This contraction, and the pushing, seemed to bring a moment of relief and rest. Izayoi's body and mind were still for a time. Silence seemed to envelope everything. Through blurry eyes, Izayoi could see beyond the veil and screens of the birthing pavilion to where the moon was glowing, oddly darkened. The ground was white—snow had fallen and continued to trickle down.

_An inauspicious night,_ Izayoi recalled from Yuki. All three bad omens glared back at her from outside: the cold, the snow, the eclipsing moon.

Footsteps, unusually loud and authoritative, thumped over the wood of the verandah outside. Izayoi paid them little mind because at that moment another contraction, a little weaker this time, hit her. She gritted her teeth, refusing to cry out with more than little whimpers, and pushed for the second time. The pressure was growing, intensifying so that it blocked out most of the rest of her world.

Mercifully the contraction ended and Izayoi slumped back, resting for the next few moments. She wondered idly for a second where Mikata had gone and when she would come back—the baby would not wait much longer, even a new, inexperienced mother like Izayoi knew that—and then a shadow fell across her face. She turned slightly, but could not make out anything other than a broad, male shadow. Though a distant part of her leaped at the thought that this might be Inutaisho, come to rescue her, she had been wary for so long around these humans that she did not risk anything, even in the delirium of her labor. A lump had formed in her throat nonetheless and when she spoke it made her already strained voice drier and weaker. "Who's there?"

"Takemaru Setsuna," came the voice from beyond the veiled screen. Stiff and short. Izayoi was too exhausted to think about what his arrival meant. Instead she sought for distraction—something, anything to send him away. She remembered the men he'd brought to defend the palace, the war threatening to split the clan and used this knowledge to buy herself time.

"Takemaru? Thank goodness—please take everyone and leave immediately." It was true; they would all die if they tried to stand in Inutaisho's way and it would hardly be fair for them to die as innocent bystanders, following Takemaru's orders. "He will not spare anyone who gets in his way." She did not want to see Takemaru die—he had been as unfortunate as she, cursed to love someone who was unattainable or forbidden, the same as she had.

She had expected Takemaru to pause or to leave at once, but instead she found suddenly and unexpectedly that he was talking to her. She struggled to follow his words, to understand them and react accordingly, if only to encourage him to _leave_, but her focus was slippery and already she could feel another massive contraction coming on.

"Lady Izayoi, I want you to know I've always been fond of you—even if your heart has been stolen by a demon."

She did not notice the way his voice hardened at the end, and she only barely heard the slight clatter of metal as he shifted, lifting his spear and taking aim without looking at her. And then—

Before the contraction the spear hit its mark, burying itself in her unresisting flesh. She had already been bracing for the oncoming contraction so when the pain of the spear came she cried out, but not as much as she might have had the strike come earlier in the labor or before it. Immediately after she was confused, whimpering and trying to lift her head to see what had happened—she did not know that Takemaru had done this and in fact did not have the presence of mind to realize that this new pain wasn't just a modified contraction. The light flickered and went out, giving her almost nothing to see by. The strange, straight, black line running out of her confounded Izayoi—who had never really seen a spear up close before.

She heard footsteps leaving her behind and abruptly began to feel cold.

Ignoring her pain—beyond it now—Izayoi fumbled at her midsection, trying to find out what had happened. Her blundering hands bumped into the spear and the realization struck her at last. She made the connection between Takemaru's presence and this weapon embedded in her side. She also knew instinctively, even without being able to see the wound or the exact location of the spear, that this was a fatal blow. She had been reassured over and over by Mikata that she was strong-bodied and would easily survive the rigors of the birth. Now that had been robbed from her and despair coursed through her, deep and devastating, further stealing away her strength.

For a moment she gave up, feeling the lifeblood ebbing out of her body with each heartbeat. She could smell her own blood now, thick and musty with iron and salt. She turned her head and saw the moon, felt the cold wintry night air.

_Inutaisho…you're too late…_

For this brief moment she was ready to close her eyes and drift away, giving up her long, weary fight. She had worked harder than harder in her short lifetime than most fought and struggled in a long, full life span. How many times had she faced despair? How many times had she fought off the cold clutches of death? The will of the survivor, inextinguishable, rose once more.

She had not expected to live much beyond this night, but she had at least known she would survive long enough to bear her child. Now that was in jeopardy.

Somehow, in spite of her weakening, little tremors, minor contractions, flexed her abdominal muscles. It was hastening her death, pushing blood out of the spear wound. The trauma of the spear had thrown off the natural progression of the birth, distracting her body from one mortal task to another. Izayoi knew that the baby would need her conscious effort in order to be born. She could not wait for a contraction that would likely no longer come.

Gritting her teeth and crying a steady, sluggish flow of tears, Izayoi curled up as much as she could and pushed, grunting with effort. The pain was blinding, swelling out from the spear wound, her abdomen, her back, and her womb all together, yet there was progress immediately. The baby had been at the very edge, one push away from crowning. Izayoi paused in her pushing only for a few seconds at a time before returning to it, straining and moaning, frantically trying to ignore the fact that her limbs were beginning to grow cold and heavy with lack of blood.

The baby was born easily after he'd crowned. He had only halfway emerged from her body when he began to cry—lustily, loud and strong. The sound reinvigorated Izayoi. She allowed herself to cry out almost as loudly as the baby, not only with her physical pain, but also with the surge of grief that swept over her ailing body. She had not even seen the baby yet as he was still buried beneath her bedding, but she loved him, completely.

With strength she should not have had, Izayoi curled up, reaching awkwardly between her legs. The spear was in the way and impeded bending. Her movement drove it only deeper into her tissue and, more irritated than anything else, she pulled it out and finally took hold of the infant for the first—and probably the last time.

Naked, pink-white, and slimy from the passage through her body, the baby screamed out his unhappiness, filling the cold, motionless air with triumphant, defiant noise. Izayoi brushed at his face, trying to clear his nose and eyes and mouth of birth fluids. She snatched up one of the cloths that Mikata had brought earlier and wrapped the baby up as best as she could. She tried to ignore the way her fingers were sluggish and clumsy, uncoordinated.

As she wrapped him she saw that this baby had his father's bright white hair, soft and silky even while wet from birth. And just popping upright were two small, round doglike ears. Izayoi rubbed them lovingly and cried tearlessly.

A shockwave reverberated through the palace. Far away Izayoi heard shouting and the twang of archers' bows. She tried to loosen her under robe to slip the baby inside, protecting him and possibly so that he could nurse—but her head swam with dizziness and she lost her balance, falling over onto her uninjured side.

She did not have a chance to realize that by pulling out the spear she had in fact cut her time living even shorter. Blood that had been blocked by the spear itself now rushed out, robbing her of all strength, even ending her pain. She was oddly euphoric, happy. She tried to rise again and then, when that failed, to adjust the baby so that he might nurse, but moving was impossible. Her arms and hands and even fingers were leaden, paralyzed by her own weakness. The baby's cries were the last thing that remained in her world as it began to fade away. She wanted to watch the baby, to stroke his hair, to feel his tiny little mouth around her nipple as he drew nourishment and strength.

She did not think about death, only the baby. And eventually even that left her. She descended into a place of warmth and weightlessness and knew nothing else…

Until she woke into fire.

The first few times she blinked after reopening her eyes, Izayoi thought she was dreaming. Flames licked the ceiling, the floor, the walls. Heat pounded her cheeks and threatened to broil her skin. The fire was louder even than her baby, who was still screaming with his powerful little lungs.

It was the sound of the baby that made her rise. And as she sat up, clutching the infant to her protectively, she saw Inutaisho standing in front of her. Reality was still dreamlike to her, unreal. She stared speechlessly as he moved forward, coming to kneel behind her, and pulled out a red haori. Tenderly he draped it over her head. The sight and feel of it triggered a memory of long ago: the first time she had met Inutaisho. She had been a girl, going to bathe on her journey to Kagetsu Palace. Inutaisho had given her the haori then too. It was an omen, a circular pattern, a fitting reunion between them.

The smoke in the air was growing thicker, harder to breathe, yet through it she saw Inutaisho's face, his golden eyes were bright red as they reflected the flames. She saw arrows, with their shafts and feathers sticking out, caught in his armor, or perhaps his flesh. Inutaisho reached out to her, stroking her chin in a brief touch. His hands were rougher than she remembered, but she had no time to comment on it, no chance even to speak before something caught her eye.

There was a shape in the fire. Still confused and confounded by her new surroundings and the changed situation, Izayoi stared, dumbfounded. She noticed only peripherally that Inutaisho was looking at the baby, watching and listening to the infant as he cried. But her distraction soon became his as well. He rose and turned to face this new threat, the unclear shadow shrouded by flame.

When Inutaisho drew the sword from his back, Izayoi at last gathered her wits and what little strength she had and shakily stood. She cringed from the fire—which was most certainly real and not dreamlike at all—and kept her tiny son pressed tightly to her. Staring past Inutaisho, she slowly registered the full shape of the shadow ahead of them and recognized Takemaru. The brush with death had left her memories oddly muddled and her emotions numbed. She tried to recall what it was about Takemaru that stirred fear and anger and regret inside her, but could not.

Inutaisho broke her concentration then by flicking his sword in such a way that his claws made it ring loud enough that Izayoi heard it distinctly over the fire. Over his shoulder he spoke to her with a commanding tone: "You must live. Go."

The phrase at once alarmed her. It implied that he did not intend to live himself. She stayed where she was and cried out, "What about you?"

He did not answer.

Takemaru drew closer and Izayoi saw that he was missing on arm. He held his sword, curved wickedly, out at an angle from his body like some kind of scarecrow. Izayoi was not entirely certain why she backed away when he advanced, but it was unconscious, against her will.

Part of the roof fell, burning, and Izayoi flinched, withdrawing another step. In the roar of the fire and the crash of the smoldering roof beams, Izayoi missed Inutaisho's next word. It was short and curt, an order for her to leave again, she thought. But before she could ask Inutaisho what he'd said, Takemaru did it for her.

"What?"

Inutaisho repeated himself, "The child's name. His name is Inuyasha."

With a jolt, Izayoi recalled that she had not had the slightest idea what to call a hanyou child—and even if she had been forced to give him a human name it wouldn't have been right. His father had to supply the name, and that was exactly what had happened. Izayoi lifted the child, staring into his unhappy, wrinkled little face and pronounced the name herself for the first time. "Inuyasha…"

Inutaisho raked his claws over the handle of his sword again and shouted, "Now go!"

Instinct propelled Izayoi to run, but not immediately. She hesitated for a heartbeat, looking at Inutaisho's strong, proud stance, the blade held up by two hands. Then she looked to Takemaru with his single arm and normal sword. She knew who would win this battle easily. Inutaisho was only sending her away because he could not risk her getting hurt in the fire—her or the child Inuyasha.

"Yes," she said and turned away, fleeing for the first gap in the curtain of uncontrolled flames. As she ducked through burning embers rained down, brushing against the fire rat robe and falling away without singeing it. Izayoi sprang out of the palace, off the crumbling verandah, and into the snow. Her feet had been burning before as she ran over sparks and ashes, but they quickly froze as she climbed up and away from the burning palace and the birth pavilion where—though she did not fully remember it—she had died and been reborn with her son, christened in fire.

When she thought she heard the clashing of their blades, Izayoi turned and looked back at the burning palace. A still, half-frozen pond reflected the flames brilliantly, lighting up the otherwise dark, moonless night. Izayoi heard the wood cracking just before it collapsed in a fiery heap. She stared out across the smooth, clear water, as reflective as glass, with the eerie white-blue snow gleaming around her.

She was numb, waiting for the next terror to befall her. The baby cried on in her arms and eventually she looked down at him, bemused at this reality that had so suddenly become her new life. Though reason and her heart proclaimed that Inutaisho should have easily emerged from the fire, she knew somewhere inside, deep in her soul, that he had died. It was unthinkable, but true. Even so, Izayoi sat on a small, cold rock and waited in view of the burning, collapsed palace for hours as the flames slowly diminished into smoldering, smoking skeletons of wooden beams, walls, and screens.

As the light of the fire faded, dying down into deep coals and embers, Izayoi at last consciously and emotionally grasped the actuality of Inutaisho's death. Slowly the cold of the night and the snow began to sink in on her, but it could not reach her heart which stayed burning and aching with emptiness and loss. She began to sob then, reawakening the baby who had stopped crying for a time after tiring himself out. She buried her face against the baby's soft, warm body, clutching him close, and felt the full extent of her helplessness. She was a weak, new mother without any male kin to care for her and with a baby boy who had no father to protect him from his powerful demon relatives.

She had a vague sense that she had died in the pavilion during Inuyasha's birth, but exactly when and how were unclear to her. She could remember holding the baby immediately after his birth, along with the euphoric lassitude that had lulled her into a sleeplike state, but the trauma of the spear had been written out of her mind. Now, alive and fully aware of her poor situation, Izayoi wondered gloomily if it would have been better for her and the child to have perished—but she knew this was despair and grief polluting her mind and heart.

She banished the thoughts and, with her indomitable survivor's willpower, Izayoi got up and trudged through the snow, turning her back completely on the smoldering ruins of the palace that had imprisoned her for the better part of a year. Just out of sight of the palace she found an abandoned guardhouse that had been spared from the fire. She closed herself inside where it was a little warmer and tried to nurse Inuyasha.

She missed Mikata for her expertise and wished she had been listening more attentively during the midwife's explanations. Izayoi did not know what had become of anyone else inside the palace after it had burned. The grounds were abandoned and silent, mournful and chilled with the last, bitter touches of winter. While Izayoi fretted with her tiny son she was able to keep worry over her future at bay.

It was a struggle to get comfortable for Izayoi, but not for Inuyasha. The baby had a healthy, vigorous appetite and knew exactly what to do the moment she positioned him at her breast. In the darkness of the guard hut she could just barely make out the moist sheen of her son's eyes. He had opened them wider now that he wasn't crying and although she could not see it, Izayoi sensed his interest in her and wondered for the first time—but certainly not the last—if that was normal in all babies or if her hanyou son was already more aware than pureblooded human babies.

More time passed. Inuyasha suckled until he was satisfied and soon was asleep; puffing his little breaths in a sweet, steady rhythm. Izayoi gradually began to fall asleep too, though her own shivering kept her awake as dawn began to color the outside world beyond the hut.

Then, suddenly, Izayoi snapped awake as she heard footsteps outside. They were not the solid thumps of a warrior's boots, but they were also too audible to be a woman's. Izayoi knew in her core, though how she knew she couldn't guess, that this was Sesshomaru. She sat up and held her breath, holding the baby tight against her.

From outside, through the still, frigid, smoky air of morning, Sesshomaru's voice called blankly. "Izayoi."

There was no menace in it and Izayoi did not hesitate getting to her feet and ducking back outside the flap of the guardhouse door. She found herself staring up at Sesshomaru and cowering briefly as she registered his disgust and then something deeper and darker. In his golden gaze, so like Inutaisho's and yet so starkly different as well, Izayoi saw a pain mirroring her own. Like her, Sesshomaru had lost something invaluable, but with his own restrained grief, Sesshomaru also _resented _her.

It was clear in that moment, in Izayoi's empathic and possibly otherworldly flash of insight, that Sesshomaru was _jealous_. He did not envy her position of course, but Izayoi saw that Inutaisho's son had never understood his own father and now never would. They had loved one another and never come forward to show or admit it properly. They had been strangers. They had been hostile. They had been unfair. Inutaisho had hurt Sesshomaru, and now Izayoi wondered if that wound inside this young lord would fester and spell her own—and tiny Inuyasha's—doom.

For all their differences from one another, Izayoi could see that Sesshomaru was jealous of the fact that Inutaisho had loved her and not him. She sputtered briefly, desperately wanting to say, _You're wrong, Inutaisho loved you so much…_but the words were irretrievable and Izayoi was certain that if she mentioned this topic Sesshomaru would lose his patience and kill her.

She realized she was crying quietly, the tears rolling down her face. Sesshomaru was staring at her, examining her with a bald, speculative hostility. Then he appeared to lose interest, looking beyond her, back toward the smoldering ruins of the palace.

Izayoi realized she was not crying for herself as much as she was for Sesshomaru, for the tragedy of their foolishness and pride. _I will never make this mistake,_ she vowed. _My loved ones will always know they are dear to me._

Sesshomaru's eyes moved back to her. Something in his expression and eyes settled Izayoi's tension. Whatever Sesshomaru did or felt in time could not change the fact that she was going to live for now. Sesshomaru would protect her and the baby.

"Come with me," he said.

* * *

End note: And that was, as word for word as I could get it without sounding too clunky, the beginning of the third Inuyasha movie. Go and youtube it now! (I used both English dub and sub for it as I don't speak or understand Japanese and I'm never going to. I'd far prefer to learn Chinese. Anyway, I used the subtitles more over the Dub because I have heard over and over that that is way more accurate, but even there I have seen multiple versions)) I studied that thing the way I would have an English text I was writing an essay paper on for college. Oi. I do apologize for the massive time between updates. I had most of it done, just not the ending there and Sesshomaru's conversation with his father the last time. I had to really puzzle that one out. I think it didn't go too bad. Laid most of the framework for it in all the previous but recent chapters.

The next chapters here (there might only be one, we'll see) are all wrap ups. Where does Inuyasha primarily grow up? How long is Sess able to withstand Izayoi and Inuyasha's presence? And did Inutaisho really have Koshoshiro-Shiroihana's lover-killed to punish her? Where will Shiroihana end up? What will she do next? Will she be a danger to Izayoi and Inuyasha? Those are the very last of the questions I think I have to answer.

toodles!


	35. The Riddle of Inutaisho's Tomb

A/N: Below I've picked out quotes or poems for each surviving character…see if you can guess which is for which…Of course Izayoi's is easy…

I found a gaff in the continuity of Inuyasha the series. Not sure if it's still in the anime, but...in Ep 5 of Inuyasha Myoga does not know who the heck Sess is when he is seeking the tomb. But in the beginning of the Third Inuyasha Movie Myoga knows very well who Sess is and it seems to me he and Saya the sword gaurdian/sheath thing-guy each didn't want to give Sess Tenseiga. They were both scared to do it. So it seems to me they knew very well who Sess was. So how could he not know in Inuyasha Ep 5 and 6? And as for the tomb and who the hell put that black pearl in Inuyasha's eye? I left that up to the imagination. Suffice to say, Izayoi doesn't know about it, so it was someone small who could sneak in without frightening her and Inuyasha...seems to fit Myoga to me, so I kinda insinuated that it was him. But canon-wise in the story Myoga did not apparently do it unless he willfully forgot to be sure he was safe from Sess...

I do not own them

Last Chapter: Inutaisho defeated the dragon and had his final conflict with Sess, and Sess failed his final compassion test. Izayoi was stabbed by Takemaru, but refused to die before giving birth to her baby. Mikata the midwife disappeared and Izayoi never knew what happened to her (if you watch the movie you see an old woman confront Takemaru before he goes into the birthing room…Takemaru kills her. We see blood on his spear before he uses it on Izayoi, so it must have been the old woman's.) Inutaisho rescued Izayoi and brought her back to life, named the baby, and died fighting Takemaru in the fire. Afterwards Sess came and took Izayoi away, as he promised he would.

* * *

Love a god she did  
a jealous rage she provoked  
in flames she met death –**Unknown**

* * *

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break. ~William Shakespeare

* * *

Temporary madness may be necessary in some cases, to cleanse and renovate the mind; just as a fit of illness is to carry off the humours of the body. ~Augustus William Hare and Julius Charles Hare, _Guesses at Truth, by Two Brothers_, 1827

* * *

Izayoi  
(Journaling for Inuyasha)

Inuyasha. This is the first time I have written your name. My beautiful son, you are an undeserved and long awaited blessing from Heaven. My only wish is that your father could have held you before he died.

Your most honorable brother, Lord Sesshomaru of the Western Lands, has brought us to a place he calls Jouka palace. Your father told me that Lord Sesshomaru spent much of his own youth here. It is a nice, pleasant palace. I am grateful and blessed to be here and to be alive with you, Inuyasha.

Spring has flooded the world outside. It has been reborn, remade. I feel as if it is all a gift for the both of us, Inuyasha.

* * *

**The Riddle of Inutaisho's Tomb**

It was three weeks after Inutaisho's death that Myoga arrived at Jouka palace to pay his respects to Izayoi and the tiny baby Inuyasha. He had not expected to find Izayoi so protected and well-cared for. Though Sesshomaru was not present—a fact that Myoga made sure of before the visit out of intense fear for his life—Izayoi had several human servants to keep her company and help her take care of her new baby.

His visit was a pleasant break from the dullness of her current life and the lingering intensity of her grief and loss. Inuyasha was a constant, welcome distraction, but Myoga provided a link to a past that seemed dreamlike and distant, unattainable and irreclaimable. She met him casually in the audience room at Jouka, not even bothering to use the dais where a ruling lady or mistress of the palace would normally conduct her meetings. This wasn't a formal affair, of course, though Myoga did appear with more than just a social visit in mind.

"I have been very busy these last few weeks carrying out Lord Inutaisho's last wishes, as set down in his will," he told Izayoi after praising the robustness and obviously energetic nature of the young Inuyasha. "Lady Izayoi, you may be surprised to hear that young lord Inuyasha's inheritance is…quite substantial."

Something somber entered his tone and Izayoi's mind sharpened as she sensed she was about to experience unpleasant knowledge of one kind or another. "What do you mean by that?"

Lying on his back on the matting in front of Izayoi was the little child himself, squirming and wriggling, reaching out toward Myoga with a curious, sharp gleam in his golden eyes. His ears moved almost as if they weren't under his control but moved at the slightest sound, many of them unheard or unclear to Izayoi. He was far too young to be mobile and could not even roll over or prop himself up, but already his eyes were alert and bright, the little mind behind them sharp and developing remarkably fast. Izayoi sensed and vaguely knew that he was already developing at a different, unprecedented rate when compared to a human baby. Most of the maids were cautious of him, as if he carried a curse. They did not show the same faint fear of Izayoi because she was clearly human, but even so, the few women who embraced the baby and loved him had already remarked on his fast growth and coordination, further backing Izayoi's suspicions.

Izayoi had known her child would be different, but facing the reality of it still left her shaky with uncertainty. Could she care for this child properly? Could she anticipate and fulfill all of his varying, changing needs? She longed for an expert's care and advice on the matter but knew there was no one who could give it to her.

No one, that was, except possibly Myoga. But it was clear he had business of his own to attend to with her so she held her tongue, patient for now.

"Lord Inutaisho's will instructed that his sword the Tetsusaiga be…" Myoga's proboscis twitched, flicking as he fought for the right word. "…sealed with him in an elaborate and secret tomb. With some help I have seen to the tomb's construction." He shifted on his multiple legs and cleared his throat. "But you should know, Lady Izayoi, that Lord Inutaisho left his most powerful sword to your son."

Izayoi blinked, astonished into silence for a moment. "_Inuyasha?"_

Myoga nodded emphatically. "Yes, to the young lord Inuyasha."

"But how will he wield it?" Izayoi demanded. "He is hanyou."

"No one can know that yet, my lady. Yet Lord Inutaisho has never given me any reason to doubt his judgment. This is what _must be._ However," he cleared his throat again and Izayoi knew this news was about to take its turn out of the unexpected and into the unpleasant. "I'm sure Lady Izayoi knows how this news will impact Lord Sesshomaru."

With a jolt Izayoi's eyes widened with alarm. She covered her mouth with both hands and shook her head. "He will _kill_ Inuyasha."

"Well," Myoga said and shuddered with fear. "He is apt to kill the messenger for sure!"

Izayoi cocked her head and frowned. "Are you asking me to tell him this?"

"No!" Myoga croaked. "No, no, no! Not at all!" He motioned rapidly to Inuyasha. "You must stay with the child."

She nodded and waited for him to go on. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Inuyasha kick and heard him gurgle. He was hungry again, always hungry. She tried to push the concern from her mind to focus on Myoga.

"I have arranged for someone else to deliver that message as well as Lord Sesshomaru's part of the inheritance Lord Inutaisho left for him. You see, my lady, Lord Sesshomaru is to inherit _Tenseiga,_ Lord Inutaisho's sword of _healing._"

Izayoi shook her head and looked sadly down into her lap where her hands were fiddling anxiously with one another. She pictured Inutaisho's face, his proud form and powerful presence and directed her thoughts at him like prayers. _Why do you spite Sesshomaru even from the grave, Dearest? Did you not see how this would hurt him? Did you not see how it would turn him against Inuyasha and I? His jealous rage will kill us both!_

Seeing her distress, Myoga sighed. "I must admit, Lady Izayoi, the will my master left is most puzzling. He was often mysterious and his motives unclear, but many times his plans, however strange, work out to be perfect with the passage of time."

"But it is time that is against us now," Izayoi murmured and her shoulders slumped as she felt the truth in her own words. "The longer Inuyasha and I live, the more we will outlast and overpower Sesshomaru's memory of his father. We are protected now because he is mourning just as we are, and his father's love for myself and Inuyasha outweighs Sesshomaru's own hatred of us. But I know that will change very soon now…"

"There is one measure of protection," Myoga muttered. "Lord Sesshomaru will not know where Lord Inutaisho's tomb is and will have no way of taking Tetsusaiga for himself—_unless_ Inuyasha is alive. Lord Inutaisho's will instructs that this is how we shall ensure you and Inuyasha are protected from Lord Sesshomaru's anger. You see, Lady Izayoi, Inuyasha is the key to Lord Inutaisho's tomb."

"I don't understand," Izayoi conceded, shaking her head.

"You aren't meant to," Myoga reassured her. "In fact, I'm not either and the less you and I know the safer Inuyasha will be." He leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "And if Lord Sesshomaru should come about threatening you and the little lord from this moment on, stay strong, my lady. Tell him that Inuyasha is the key to the tomb and must remain alive for it to be accessed. In fact, tell Lord Sesshomaru that the tomb will be sealed until Inuyasha matures physically and emotionally."

Izayoi smiled though she was still nervous, unsure that this ploy would work on Sesshomaru. _Until Inuyasha matures physically and emotionally…_That could mean 15 or 50 or 80 or never for a human man. Sesshomaru would certainly find it frustrating, unreadable, baffling. Izayoi knew the young inuyoukai lord well enough to realize he had virtually no knowledge or appreciation of humans.

"I see you like this part of the plan," Myoga remarked with a self-satisfied smirk. "I rather enjoyed it as well. Lord Sesshomaru is very intelligent, but not all that well-learned in this respect."

She sensed that Myoga was about to take leave of her, disappearing to who knew where, and hurriedly posed another topic. "Myoga, I was wondering if you could advise me—or teach me—what to expect with Inuyasha. Chiyo, my maid, has already told me that he's different from a normal baby…"

"Ah," Myoga said and nodded. "Lady Izayoi means her son is different from _human_ babies. Lady Izayoi wants to know what to expect from a _hanyou_ baby."

"Yes," Izayoi said, grinning with relief. "He is always hungry. I never have enough milk for him. Chiyo says she's never seen a more active, alert baby."

Myoga sniffed. "I'm hardly surprised that Lord Inutaisho and Lady Izayoi's son is active and alert!"

"Yes, but—"

"I know," Myoga interrupted her, lifting one set of hands in a placating motion. "You want to know about hanyou. Unfortunately I cannot tell you anything for certain, my lady. I have seen hanyou whose minds progressed beyond that of an infant or childlike level very quickly while their bodies grew to bizarre shapes and sizes and left them deformed and pitiable. I have also seen hanyou whose bodies advanced at the rate of humans, aging and dying long before their minds could catch up. They were pitiful creatures but when I saw young Inuyasha any fear that he would be like one of them left me at once."

Izayoi's panic was visible, almost strangling her. She automatically feared for her child and the helplessness of the situation—for she was at the mercy of nature and inheritable traits—struck her like a blow.

Myoga went on, trying to soothe her. "Already he is alert as you said, and already he is kicking and grasping his feet. I can assure you this is _faster_ development for most youkai offspring—at least in the bears, dogs, and wolves."

"Faster?" Izayoi whispered.

"I have heard it suggested before that hanyou have the potential to display the best physical characteristics of their mixed heritage." He shrugged. "I have not seen it with my own eyes, but Inuyasha is as good a candidate as any."

"And what would that…" Izayoi struggled for the right answer and finally said, "Be like?"

"A development as fast as a human but with a lifespan comparable more to a demon like Lord Inutaisho, measured not in years potentially, but decades, even centuries. He may outlive you, Lady Izayoi, and perhaps even Lord Sesshomaru if he ages as if he is pureblooded, and with a mind advancing at a rate that matches his body."

Mildly relieved but still unsatisfied with the limited information, Izayoi turned and reached for the baby, who was by now beginning to whimper with rising hunger and frustration. Izayoi stroked his smooth, silky white hair and brushed his little furry ears with her fingers. The baby quieted at once, absorbing her affection as eagerly as he would nurse from her later.

Myoga gave a little contented sigh. "I should be leaving, my lady. If I should come upon more knowledge on this matter I will be sure to share it with you."

"Thank you," Izayoi replied, smiling—but she had not lifted her gaze away from her son.

After Myoga had gone she retired to an open balcony to view the meadows and the distant mountains with their melting snow. She could smell fresh water, cold and sweet, in the fragrant air. She nursed Inuyasha there, enthralled by the beauty of the scenery, the sereneness of the mood of Jouka palace, and lulled into a thick euphoria by the warmth of her little son's body. Peace suffused her and for a time any threat or fear of the future was borne away, snatched like dust on the wind, hurled far away from her.

_You will grow the way Myoga described,_ she thought to her little son. _You'll outlive me by decades, even centuries. Your father will smile on you from Heaven, just as I will one day…_

* * *

Sesshomaru  
(Letter from Daken with Sesshomaru's reply)

Most Honorable Lord Sesshomaru,

Your Great Mother has acquiesced your desires and is leaving for the mainland. This humble servant-warrior asked that he be allowed to go with her, but Lady Shiroihana refused this lowly one's services. It is my lady's final wish to her Most Honorable Son and Heir of all the Western Lands including the Kosetsu Province, that this lowly servant may once more join the Lord of the Western Lands in loyal, lifelong servitude.

Your Great Mother makes this request knowing that her Most Honorable Son has no obligations to her, but in her fealty and motherly concern, Lady Shiroihana begs the Great Lord Sesshomaru to give her this last wish that she might stay aware of events in the Japanese islands and return if her Most Honorable Son should ever desire it and find it pains him as much as it currently pains her to be parted from one as Magnificent as the Lord Sesshomaru, her son.

Daken

(The reply)

This Sesshomaru accepts you into service.

* * *

The news of Inutaisho's death at once brought unrest to various areas around the Western Lands where local human and youkai rulers each suddenly decided they had ambitions for wider control over their lands. Sesshomaru saw to each rebellion individually, slaughtering rulers he could not trust and elevating new ones in the place of those executed. It was tedious, boring work, but necessary.

His mind and heart were empty, numbed and blank. The unrest did not surprise him and did not frighten him and it was easily cured, a little like cutting out a timorous growth from an otherwise healthy body. He felt mild satisfaction in this early success, and power invigorated him as new rulers, human and youkai alike, bowed low before him and swore allegiance with the same fear, awe, and respect that Sesshomaru had seen directed at Inutaisho during the centuries of his rule.

When Sesshomaru was traveling between sights he remained mute and dispassionate. Troops flowed to him easily, almost exclusively youkai now rather than the mixture of mortal and immortal that Inutaisho had amassed. Sesshomaru did not make any effort to contract their services, but they came any way and Sesshomaru occasionally rewarded those he liked by giving them the rebelling lands and provinces whose inhabitants and leaders he quashed.

Following fast in the wake of Inutaisho's death was the news from the Middle Lands that Lord Koshoshiro had been killed. It had taken three assassins to do it, but Koshoshiro was very much dead and now the Middle Lands were experiencing their own upheaval as Koshoshiro was succeeded not by his son, but by his daughter Taikokajin. Marriage plans were already being drawn up between the different rulers of the Middle Lands, each trying to insert a young male heir to become Taikokajin's consort and effectively a co-ruler. The established betrothal was with a certain cousin of Lord Nishiyori, but the unexpected death of Koshoshiro had thrown everything in that land into question.

There was another thing that Koshoshiro's death had a profound effect on.

All of Sesshomaru's spies told him that Shiroihana was mad with grief and loss. He had not truly imagined it was possible, but his fiery, fierce mother had seemingly sputtered and lost her spark. He had not seen her and did not wish to see her at first, but his anger cooled gradually as he heard rumor that she had stopped eating completely and did nothing but sleep in the confines of her enormous, grotesque palace on the mountaintop.

Some of the foxes hesitantly voiced concern that Shiroihana was dying, but Sesshomaru found this statement unbelievable and quietly thought his crafty, spiteful mother had bribed these kitsune into telling him this to manipulate him into pitying her and relenting on his insistence that she leave the islands altogether in exile. He continued to send orders through traditional messengers as well as the spies that Shiroihana could not escape her banishment. Even if she was dying, Sesshomaru expected her to do it elsewhere.

Two months after Inutaisho's death rumor reached Sesshomaru again that Shiroihana was dying with misery. If she could only see her son once more she might pull herself out of the downward spiral that led into an early grave…

Shiroihana was only about 450 years old. For an inuyoukai this was not quite middle age. She could remarry if she wished, even birth more pups.

Eventually the rumors were repeated too often and with too many details for Sesshomaru to safely ignore them. It was nearly midsummer when he came to Kagetsu palace and found, much to his trepidation, that the spies had not been bribed after all. Shiroihana did not dress or prepare for his arrival at all.

He found her sitting in the misty, thick air of one of her outdoor terraces, staring out sightlessly into the mists while a monkey dozed in boredom behind her. She had diminished, shrinking. The luster of health and vitality had left her and when she turned to face him alarm shot through Sesshomaru at the sight of her sinewy neck, her wizened collarbone where it showed over the edges of her plain gray robe. Even her eyes, normally bright and golden, seemed to have dulled into an almost human shade.

"Mother," he addressed her, blandly. He did not bow or even duck his head. By all rights he outranked her now in everything except age.

She grasped the railing of the terrace and heaved herself upright with an effort. On her feet she swayed, her long, messy hair caught in a light wind and ruffled, flicking. She was silent, staring at him with a disturbing, unreadable intensity. Her face had seemingly shrunken down until it was all eyes, watching him, drawing him in against his will. She had never truly been weak in all the time Sesshomaru had known her, but for the first time he saw frailty in her and felt his heart quail.

Yet he stayed firm. _No,_ he thought. _This is Mother. She is manipulative. She is my greatest enemy…_

"Oh," Shiroihana let out the little, agonizing sound. "_Sesshomaru!"_

He raised his chin defiantly. "This Sesshomaru has come to demand why you have not left the Western Lands."

Shiroihana flinched and her mouth fell open with shock. "Please," she began, choking. "Don't make me leave you."

"You have been banished," Sesshomaru said blandly. "When will you obey me and leave?"

She lurched forward and Sesshomaru drew backwards a step. She fell onto her knees and bowed ungracefully, touching her forehead to the wood of the walkway. "I beg you!" she sobbed. "I have done everything for your benefit. You have the Western Lands. You rule even my province. How can I appease you? Please…!"

Sesshomaru felt as if he would throw up. He wanted to stoop and take her in his arms, to embrace her until she was strong again and he could hate her without guilt. But if he did that now Shiroihana would use him as her puppet again. Sesshomaru would never escape her. _This must end now._ She had to be punished.

"If you are loyal to me you will stop this humiliation and leave for the mainland. I do not care where you go."

She sat up and peered into his face, searching him. Tears rolled unrestrainedly over her cheeks. "Do you know there is nothing left for me in this world but you?" She grabbed at his hakama but Sesshomaru took a step back, pulling out of her clutches. She collapsed, her shoulders shaking as fresh sobs burst from her throat. "I would rather die than be parted from you!"

Before Sesshomaru could stop the remark, he heard himself say, "That can be arranged. To disobey my orders is punishable by death."

Suddenly Shiroihana let out a little piercing shriek. She clutched at her head and then at her own hair, which was as pale as her skin now. She let out a violent, hateful curse in Chinese that Sesshomaru did not understand but the lapsed swiftly into Japanese again. _"He was right!"_She wailed. "It is true. My son does not care for me. What have I done to deserve this?"

Sesshomaru thought bitterly that he could think of a few things, but made no motion and did not share his mind with her.

Shiroihana got to her feet unsteadily and glared at Sesshomaru with a mixture of despair and rage. She lashed out, pointing at his head. "I gave you _everything,"_ she whispered in a harsh breath. "I gave you life." She laid her hands over her flat, sunken abdomen. "And now I have nothing. Are you happy, _Sesshomaru?_ Otouto-san!"

"I am not your brother," Sesshomaru muttered. "Nor have I ever been."

"When you look in the mirror you will see me," Shiroihana cried. "When your daughters are born you will see me, too. Even if I am dead or gone far away, we cannot escape each other, Sesshomaru! You will not be able to forget me."

Emotions rose and battled inside Sesshomaru. He wanted to say, _I do not intend to even try to forget you, how could I?_ And then he wanted to spite her and wound her as she had throughout his entire life and say, _One day the world will not even recall what you look like or who you were._ It was easy enough to ignore her ranting about all the daughters he would have.

Instead of saying these things Sesshomaru found the greatest piece of advice he could give her and offered it. "Don't make this Sesshomaru execute you for insolence. Obey this Sesshomaru and you will be allowed to return to this palace one day."

Her expression changed, dropping some of her despair. She swallowed and raised her chin. A glimmer of the strength and willfulness that Sesshomaru expected in her returned. "Very well," she said and Sesshomaru forced himself to hide his inner relief that was not quite the triumph he'd wanted. She went on, "I humbly request that you take Daken into your services so that I may have some reliable source of information about your fortunes. Your father said that one day you would have great need of me." She sniffed almost haughtily. "I will never be out of your reach. I am your mother and everything I do is for you. One day you will learn to appreciate that."

Sesshomaru said nothing and after a moment he turned to leave, already knowing that he had no choice but to agree to her wish that Daken join his household, effectively spying on Sesshomaru. What did it matter, Sesshomaru thought, if Shiroihana was gone?

He left her palace and then the Kosetsu entirely, vowing never to return and to keep his heart hardened against his mother's presence and her long term wishes.

* * *

It was three months after Inutaisho's death that Sesshomaru at last received his inheritance. The sword Tenseiga was slung from a tree and Sesshomaru found himself dispassionately accepting the sword, unaware of the full insult it was—but already thoroughly insulted. He tied the sword to his waist and moved on, trying and failing to bury the internal pain of this continued rejection. Pain easily transformed into resentment and anger. He might have cast the sword away to let it be claimed by someone else, or simply to corrode in the dust. Yet it was made of his father's own body, one of his deadly fangs. And soon it began to take on a new symbolic meaning for Sesshomaru.

Tenseiga was a constant reminder that he was seeking the power that Inutaisho had denied him. But his father could not stop him from the grave. Though it might take centuries, Sesshomaru would find Tetsusaiga and Sounga and claim them as his own. When he took those swords into his hands—where they truly belonged—he would at last cast off Tenseiga to spite his father's final wishes and will.

He began sending messengers and spies to learn what had become of the swords after his father's death. Any remains Inutaisho had left in the smoldering ruins of the palace had been spirited away before Sesshomaru's arrival on the scene. And the swords had gone with the body. Sesshomaru knew that some small, hidden servants of Inutaisho were following his will. It would only be a matter of time before he uncovered who they were and what Inutaisho's orders had been in detail.

It was not hard to find out. Within a week the answer was supplied by a kitsune. The tomb was hidden and Tetsusaiga was safe within, waiting for its inheritor to grow up and claim it.

Enormous fury clawed at the inside of Sesshomaru's skull as he finally grasped just _who_ his father had bequeathed the sword to.

"_Inuyasha?"_ he asked, narrowing his golden eyes.

The kistune cringed, as if he could shrink down and vanish out of his master's vision. He did not quite understand _who_ that was—the hanyou's existence was not widely known currently—but he sensed that this was unacceptable information for Sesshomaru. "Yes, my lord. I'm sorry to bring such bad news…"

"It is not bad news," Sesshomaru murmured, realizing that this was an error by Inutaisho. A very foolish one. It gave Sesshomaru the necessary motive to overcome his reluctance to break his vow to his father regarding protecting the little half-breed and Izayoi. If Inutaisho could spite him like this so thoroughly, showing such loathing and disrespect even from the grave, then why would Sesshomaru be obliged to honor _anything_ his father had arranged.

He imagined descending unannounced to Jouka Palace, blowing into Izayoi's room in the middle of the night like hail during a violent storm, and slashing them both apart, limb from limb. It would be a blessing upon his father's memory and upon Sesshomaru's honor. No one would hear anything but whispered, unbelievable rumors regarding Inutaisho's unholy love for a human woman, and none would remark on the disgusting hanyou half-sibling of Sesshomaru's and how much the pup resembled their father.

If Sesshomaru had had less self-control he might have gagged just thinking about these possibilities. But that hardly mattered now because he was going to _kill_ both of them.

Emboldened slightly by Sesshomaru's assurance that this wasn't _bad_ news, the kitsune pressed on with the rest of his message. "My lord, there is more. The tomb is unreachable and cannot be opened until this Inuyasha has matured. If Inuyasha should die the tomb will never be found. I was told that all of the demons carrying out your honorable father's will each handled a different portion of preparation. This is true even with the tomb. The creature said to have possessed the knowledge of _where_ the tomb was placed cannot be found and may have killed himself in a last duty to protect its location."

Sesshomaru interrupted the fox with quiet rage. "Are you certain of this?"

"Very certain!" the fox said, quailing and shaking as he sensed the dangerous temper of his lord boiling over. "There is some hope, however. Lord Inutaisho's will left a riddle for you specifically, so that one day you might indeed find the tomb."

Sesshomaru waited, narrowing his eyes with dark concentration.

The kitsune swallowed and cleared his throat, then began to recite the message: "Seen yet never seen, protected but never known to its protector."

"Is that all?" Sesshomaru snapped.

"Y-y-yes!" the kitsune stammered, cringing in anticipation of certain death.

"Go," Sesshomaru ordered, gesturing violently the messenger to leave.

The fox bowed hurriedly and quickly left Sesshomaru's presence.

Alone Sesshomaru's mind spun frantically about this information, weighing it. Could it be a lie left to manipulate him? Yet Sesshomaru could not convince himself to take such a risk. The sword was too valuable. He wanted it too much, if only to spite his father and increase his own power and standing. He couldn't risk the chance that Inutaisho had been telling the truth and that the sword and Inuyasha's life were bound together.

However, this did not change the fact that in the present moment he wanted nothing more than to storm into Jouka palace and execute both Izayoi and Inuyasha. How could he be expected to honor anything his father wished when Inutaisho had left nothing of any value to his true, pureblooded son and heir? Inutaisho had denied Sesshomaru everything: respect, power, honor, dignity—even love. If Inutaisho could not forgive Sesshomaru for his shortcomings then why should Sesshomaru forgive Inutaisho's?

Over the next winter Sesshomaru recorded every hint and rumor that floated to him on the wind, anything that pertained to his father's will and tomb. He eventually learned where Inutaisho had stored his other valuables, trinkets and charms that he had collected over his life on the mainland. He calculated their worth and purposes and added them to the list of things that his father had apparently meant for him to inherit. It was a growing list, but it contained only things that hadn't mattered much to Sesshomaru or had been expected because there was truly no one else who could inherit them. The Western Lands and all of Inutaisho's palaces and castles fell into that category. But always Sesshomaru returned to the topic of the swords.

He should have had them. Unquestionably. Yet Inutaisho scorned him.

By spring he had asked Kuenai, his old teacher, to consider the riddle. Kuenai labored over the task, studying Inutaisho's notes, all of his preserved writings, examined all of the trinkets from the mainland, and quizzed Sesshomaru about his father's habits. Yet the cryptic words made little sense.

"Who is the protector of the tomb?" Sesshomaru demanded during a midsummer visit back to Nejiro where Kuenai resided, looking after the property while Sesshomaru remained mobile, moving about forlornly through the land he now found empty and unsatisfying.

"I cannot be certain," Kuenai admitted, sighing.

"Then _guess,"_ Sesshomaru growled.

Kuenai, sitting at his writing desk with an ink brush poised over long scroll of paper, shook his head with sadness and frustration. "I can find no substantial evidence linking your honorable father's hanyou offspring to the location of the tomb, yet I am in agreement with you, Lord Sesshomaru. It is too great a risk to kill the hanyou."

Sesshomaru stood with his arms crossed, glaring unseeingly out the slats of a window. "Indeed," he muttered. "Tell me, who do you believe the riddle refers to?"

"Well," Kuenai murmured, "it cannot refer to the hanyou, unless somehow he will become the key to the tomb's location at maturity. Lord Inutaisho had several retainers, illusive and clever. Most notable of them was Myoga the flea. No one has been able to find him. He is too small, but I believe that he is most likely the guardian."

"Then I will find him and force him to reveal its location," Sesshomaru growled.

Kuenai let out a grunting laugh. "My lord will find that difficult. Flea youkai are almost scentless, aura-less, impossible to find unless they wish to be found. Besides, it is my belief that your honorable father would not be so foolish as to let even the flea know the true location. Lord Inutaisho was more careful than that. No, I believe that the location has died with one servant or another. The one who sealed the tomb did so secretly and then perished."

Sesshomaru scowled lightly. A lifetime of emotional trials had trained him well. He did not explode and did not give into the desire to tear into something with his claws the way that Shiroihana or Inutaisho would have with the same level of anger, insult, and frustration. "What action must I take, Teacher?"

Kuenai spread his clawed hands in a gesture of hopelessness. "I believe time may reveal another piece of this puzzle. Perhaps the pup will prove to be a key of some kind."

Though Sesshomaru despised this kind of logic, he had indeed heard of tombs that were sealed with hard, unbreakable magic that required certain actions or people to "unlock." Perhaps Inutaisho had erected a tomb closed by such magic and only Inuyasha's living, adult spirit and touch would be able to open it. That would ensure that Sesshomaru preserved Inuyasha's life for uncountable years while he searched for the tomb and how to open it. And if he killed Inuyasha and then found the tomb, how bitter his defeat would be if he discovered he could never open it!

This made entirely too much sense. And knowing Inutaisho, he secretly hoped Sesshomaru would come to adore little Inuyasha, raising him as a son or some such nonsense.

_Never!_

"I will be patient," Sesshomaru announced. "And I accept your counsel."

"Ah," Kuenai said, smirking darkly. "I sense a hidden agenda in your words, my lord. What are you planning?"

"I cannot kill my…." He paused, mulling over the next words with disdain. "Little Brother, just yet. But there is no need for me to provide for him or his mother. There is no need for me to even see that they are comfortable." He smiled slightly at this thought, pleased that he could exact some punishment, gain some power over his father's enormous affront.

"I see," Kuenai said and laughed. "As far as I'm concerned my lord—do your worst! It's a shame you cannot kill the little abomination right now."

Sesshomaru's expression soured though Kuenai could not see it. "Indeed."

* * *

Over the next few months, leading into autumn—almost a year and a half since Inutaisho's death—Sesshomaru contacted the Setsuna clan's leader and began arranging a tradeoff. He gave Izayoi no notice and had not visited her at all since leaving her in Jouka palace. The humans were reluctant to take her, as he'd known they would be. In fact Sesshomaru had to pay them after a fashion to make them interested. He ordered a protective guard of various demons loyal to himself to encircle fields and important towns to strengthen the Takeyabu province against attacks by wild youkai and human bandits.

Ijimeru Setsuna, head of the clan, was fond enough of Izayoi that he would take her as a concubine or courtesan though of course her dishonor in bearing a demon's son would render any children she bore him illegitimate. Yet her position, though easily mocked and dishonorable, would afford Izayoi and her bastard, hanyou son protection from a world that was otherwise deadly in its hate and hostility.

Though Sesshomaru did not know much about humans he did understand that they feared and hated those that were unlike them more than youkai did. While youkai despised weakness in humans and hanyou, the humans would hate and fear and persecute blindly. Initially Sesshomaru had thought he would keep Izayoi and Inuyasha close to him and perhaps find a good use for the hanyou in particular. He might make a good servant, spy, or guard one day and would naturally be loyal to Sesshomaru because of their blood kinship and a sincere gratitude that Sesshomaru had wasted any time or effort on a lowly, worthless abomination. But now Sesshomaru saw no benefit in such an arrangement and knew that if he did not push Izayoi and Inuyasha far, far away and out of sight—he was liable to lose his temper and kill them both. It was fitting punishment then that Izayoi and Inuyasha go back to the clan they did not belong in. To a society that would shun and loathe them. What Sesshomaru did not care to do himself to harm them both he would entrust to humans.

* * *

Izayoi  
(Letters to Inuyasha)

Inuyasha,

Today I feel great sadness and despair for us both. You are too young to know what has happened, but someday when you do understand, I feel it is very important that you look back on these words and learn wisdom and truth from them. We have lived a blessed life, sheltered and protected in a remote place in the mountains by your older brother. I do not know when you read this someday what you will remember of your brother, but I set these words to the page today to counsel you to remember that you and I both owe Sesshomaru great debts that we cannot ever repay.

Before your birth it was Sesshomaru who told your father where to find me. It was only through Sesshomaru's action that we are both alive. Later, after your father's death, Sesshomaru could have killed us both. In fact, I thought he would. He is troubled, Inuyasha. You should not envy him or curse him, not ever. Though he has not always been kind to me, and although I pray this will never be so, I expect he will not always act in a brotherly way toward you, I want you to never seek to harm or insult him. I ask you only to respect and yield to your brother in remembrance of the gifts he has given us both: life.

With all of my love, darling.

* * *

At the end of the ninth month, when the first frosts had turned the green, lush summer grass gray as it began to wither and die, anticipating the cold of winter, Sesshomaru arrived unexpectedly. It was late afternoon and the temperature outside was pleasant enough that Izayoi went with Chiyo, her favorite maid, outside into the open field and gardens surrounding the small mountain palace.

Inuyasha was with them of course, as he always was. At a year and a half he was an astonishing cross between human and canine, filled to the brim with energy and curiosity. He loved to trundle outside on his little but powerful legs, on twos and fours interchangeably. All of his teeth were in and thoroughly sharp. It was becoming harder to nurse him and Izayoi both longed and dreaded the time when she would wean him. His bodily development had been swift, but not hugely abnormal the more weeks passed. It was his mind, however, that seemed to be outpacing his body these days.

Already the pup had tried to mimic her by holding a brush. He was speaking with increasing complexity and even if he did not vocalize Izayoi suspected her son knew far more than most young children his age. He was sure and steady on his feet, well-balanced and strong.

As he aged his energy was expanding enormously and throughout the summer Izayoi had ensured that her son slept well at night by playing with him hard during the daylight hours. She feared days when it was raining and as the weather grew cold especially because it would mean Inuyasha would have to expel his energy inside.

On the day that Sesshomaru arrived Izayoi had no knowledge of it until it was already far too late to go and greet him with proper respect. One moment she was watching Inuyasha run, romping over the short, brittle grass and hollering in half-words, half-yips at the sky, and talking quietly with Chiyo—the next alarm and surprise were racing through her, stealing her breath. Her first indication that something was wrong came when Inuyasha tumbled to a stop some twenty feet from them and turned to stare at the palace far behind. His little white ears were cocked with interest and his golden eyes wide.

"Mama! Mama!" He pointed with a clawed finger and scampered at full speed for her lap, colliding with her. "Mama! Look! Look back!"

Izayoi craned her neck while her hands and arms automatically clasped over her son, but as soon as she recognized the tall, stately white form approaching over the grass through the blinding brightness of late afternoon sunlight, she pulled Inuyasha crushingly tight to her chest. She stood up and Chiyo moved with her, lifting the sunshade to shield Izayoi. Inuyasha squirmed and let out little growls and yaps of protest. He did not like being carried while he was outside. But Izayoi ignored his struggling and held him only tighter.

"Mama! Let go!"

"Hush," she hissed and tweaked one ear hurriedly.

Sesshomaru was within ten feet of Izayoi, Chiyo, and Inuyasha when the pup lost his patience and wriggled out of his mother's hold, half falling, half leaping from her arms. Izayoi yelped with alarm and reached for him, instantly afraid he would hurt himself, but Inuyasha landed on all four feet like a cat and then toddled on two legs at a surprisingly swift canter to meet his older brother. Izayoi moved after him, shouting his name once and then halting, afraid that her fear would somehow influence Sesshomaru, making her worst fears—that Sesshomaru would hurt or kill Inuyasha—true.

She stood stiff with terror, helpless in the pool of shade created by Chiyo's parasol, as Inuyasha and Sesshomaru headed for a collision course. It would be the first meeting between the brothers where Inuyasha had any chance of remembering the event and identifying his older brother by appearance and scent. Would it also be their last?

Sesshomaru stopped before Inuyasha could reach him, tensing. Inuyasha barreled forward, colliding with his older brother's pant leg and tugging on it insistently. "Who?" he demanded. "Who?"

Sesshomaru sniffed with distaste and then, cold and deliberately, gave a little kick of the leg that Inuyasha was tugging on. It was not enough to hurt Inuyasha, but it was more than enough to knock him over and free Sesshomaru's pant leg. Inuyasha tumbled away easily, rolling. When he sprang up again his ears swiveled and his toothy lips parted in an enormous grin. "Play!"

"No!" Izayoi called, shaking in her place. "No play! Inuyasha! Come here!"

Sesshomaru closed the distance between himself and Izayoi before Inuyasha could pounce again. As he faced Izayoi with a blank, cold expression over his features, he blatantly ignored Inuyasha as the pup came up behind him and tugged with both claws and teeth on his shoes and pants.

"This Sesshomaru has come to inform you that tomorrow you will be escorted to the Takeyabu province where you will be joined with the human Ijimeru as a concubine."

The news struck Izayoi like a stone. She blinked and then stumbled. Chiyo caught her and held her upright. Izayoi filled the void with words quickly in spite of her shock. "My lord…?"

"You will be safe. He will provide for you," Sesshomaru told her dispassionately.

"Please." She forced Chiyo away and dropped to her knees, then touched her forehead to the grass. She was so close to his feet that Sesshomaru had to withdraw a step to keep her hair from falling against his shoes. The movement startled Inuyasha and he gave a yip, darting in alarm and then rushing back for his half-brother's legs and feet with a growl.

"Anything I have done to displease you, Lord Sesshomaru. I beg you, _please. _Do not send me away from this place! Do not give me to Ijimeru!"

Sesshomaru spoke above her, but not to her. He was addressing Chiyo. "You," he said. "Take this _thing away_."

He meant Inuyasha.

Izayoi motioned with one hand for Chiyo to d nothing. "I will do it." She reached out, shuffling on her knees to cover the distance, and snatched Inuyasha by the arm. He cried out with displeasure and fought her for a moment, but swiftly gave in as the dark attitude of the adults around him at last began to sink in. He growled, an almost comical sound, if not for the direness of the situation.

"Should you require help from this Sesshomaru a messenger will be nearby to carry letters. If this Sesshomaru feels you are truly in need of his help, he will intervene. If not then you must manage for yourself."

"Please…" Izayoi said and began to cry and shudder. "You cannot debase me like this! I loved your father! I…" She swallowed hard and, even being unable to lift her head and see his face, she knew what she was about to say was dangerous and likely would insult him, but it was completely true and they both knew it. She refused to let him forget it.

"Lady Izayoi _saved Lord Sesshomaru's life!"_

"Silence," Sesshomaru growled.

"_Lord Inutaisho planned to kill you!"_ she shrieked, gasping. "I convinced him to spare you! This is how you repay me?"

She saw a blue of movement a microsecond before she felt the impact of Sesshomaru's boot on her shoulder, head, and neck. She fell, crying out and curling into a fetal position, cradling her head and shaking with both the shock and pain of the blow. Inuyasha let out a high pitched howl, painful even to Izayoi's ears. The sound of it made Izayoi forget her own pain as she struggled to sit up, to see Sesshomaru and her son.

The scene before her was surreal and sickening. Inuyasha had fearlessly—and foolishly—leapt to defend his mother. He had torn Sesshomaru's hakama, shredding them until he reached skin and clawed that, drawing blood. Sesshomaru calmly plucked the nuisance pup from his leg and carelessly tossed him away. The pup managed somehow to be agile enough that he landed partway on his feet, but he still cried out with the landing and his ears fell flat as he began to cry, much more like a human baby than a puppy.

"You will all do as I say or this Sesshomaru will kill you both," Sesshomaru muttered. "Do you understand?"

Frantic to reach her son and comfort him, Izayoi agreed hardly hearing herself. "Yes, yes, of course Lord Sesshomaru."

And with that Sesshomaru turned his back on them and began walking away. Izayoi stumbled hurriedly to her feet as soon as he was a bit further away and rushed to Inuyasha. She found he had several scratches and favored one hind leg, but otherwise showed no signs of crippling injury. Her relief at this discovery almost obliterated her own fear and humiliation at Sesshomaru's decision.

_Ijimeru's concubine?_ What kind of future was that?

But as she held Inuyasha close, stroking his white hair and his ears, she knew that she would settle for any life as long as she could live and raise Inuyasha.

* * *

End note: All right, sorry for my tardiness. I know it's becoming a habit, but my life is busy. It is a little less busy now as of a little less than a week ago and that has been a major part of what's allowed me to finally get this out. Had to do some research! Had to get that riddle about Inutaisho's tomb. Hehehe...


	36. The Peace of Fate

A/N: The latest break was a little longer than my usual I must say! I became unemployed so I am not as busy as I used to be, but in all honesty, I have been putting my time toward writing my original work. I have two novels completed, with a completely separate third one in the works. I read some excellent books: "Leviathan Wakes" (Sci fi by someone named Corey I think) and "The Desert Spear" by someone named Brett. But mostly I have been submitting queries to various publishers and agents without success I'm afraid. :-( But what's a girl to do except keep on trying! My hubby is very supportive and encourages me constantly. He is a huge blessing! No babies for us yet (though that would have been an excellent excuse for my prolonged absence, but it would be a lie). We're too selfish for rug rats just yet. I have more than enough children relying on me in fictional worlds! (LOL). But yeah, trying very hard to be published. The closest thing to luck I had was when Samhain Publishing (love them) rejected me and said they really liked my voice and found my characters and plot compelling, but the novel I submitted didn't have enough romance! Believe it or not, my family actually believes I can't write romance and sometimes I even believed them in the last month or two, but then I came back to this story and whacked myself in the head and said, "DUH!". If this story didn't have some romance in it well...then I guess I don't know what romance is! (LOL).

Anyway, this is the last chapter I believe. Hardly feels like it, probably because this story doesn't really end. If I get a lot of reviewers upset by this ending I can be convinced to add more to this story, but at this point I really felt like it needed to end. Last chapter was almost a good ending point on its own, but I wanted to capture more time, gill in a few little gaps. Things like, **Where was Sessmom during the anime/manga? How did Sessmom know what to do when she healed Rin in the anime/manga? **I also wanted to hint at and take in some of my own loose ends from _Runaway, Return, Innocence, With Our Arms Wide Open_ and so forth. Those stories are all connected and I wanted to make sure it was clear that _this_ story is connected to them as well. At the end of this chapter I'll share a few more notes, but for now, please enjoy.

Also, I wanted to **_thank_**_ everyone_ who's written to me with encouragement and praise in this story and all my others. I reread some of your kind words tonight and had a good laugh and felt so much better about the really depressing and impossible publishing business and most importantly about myself. To date I've sent 36 submissions querying agents and publishers for two different novels and had no success except for that really nice rejection by Samhain. Your reviews encouraged me more than you'll know, reassuring me that I really do have talent and that others could someday accept me and fulfill my dream of making a living this way. :-D

Disclaimer: I own almost nothing.

* * *

Last Chapter: Izayoi learned some details of Inuyasha's inheritance, as did Sess. Sess banished Shiroihana and she reluctantly obeyed with the promise that one day she would return. Sess, angry that the tomb is somehow tied to Inuyasha and will never be found without letting the pup have time to grow and mature, took out some vengeance by giving Izayoi and Inuyasha to Ijimeru Setsuna, Takemaru's older brother and head of the clan if you recall, so Izayoi's brother-in-law and now master.

* * *

What was silent in the father speaks in the son, and often I found in the son the unveiled secret of the father. ~Friedrich Nietzsche

Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it. ~Mark Twain

* * *

Izayoi  
(Letter to Sesshomaru)

Most Honorable Lord Sesshomaru,

This lowly human woman wishes to thank you for your protection and your mercy. This lowly woman will always be obedient and grateful. This weak and puny mortal woman will raise her child in obedience and gratitude and loyalty to the Lord of the Western Lands. She begs that you do not forget either herself or her son.

Lady Izayoi

* * *

**The Peace of Fate**

Ijimeru Setsuna accepted Izayoi as his concubine in a simple, bland ceremony similar to a marriage. Sesshomaru represented her family by controlling the unruly Inuyasha throughout the ceremony. He sat at the back of the audience room, glaring through hawkish golden orbs at Izayoi's back as he pointedly ignored the squirming and whimpering of his half-brother in his lap.

Though Inuyasha was very young and would not recall this ceremony and would never glean its meaning—the insult to his mother and the fact that this had been inflicted on her by Sesshomaru—he was already laying down scent memories. Scent was a deeper, primeval sense tied to memory, especially for inuyoukai. Currently Inuyasha was laying a foundation of distrust and discomfort in association with Sesshomaru's scent. He knew instinctively that this was a creature closely related to him, so his gut reaction was one of trust, but reality betrayed that as untruthful. He was a confused, unhappy pup and not shy about letting others know about it.

"Let go! _Let go!"_ he said and then dissolved into growls. He was issuing a warning and even the humans could interpret the child's noises and words as such. For Sesshomaru it had greater meaning. Not only was Inuyasha going to shriek, holler, and cry—but he would use his claws.

The pup's patience wore out. He scratched at Sesshomaru's clothing, deliberately getting beneath it so that he could claw skin. When Inuyasha drew a faint scratch of blood, Sesshomaru pinched the child's ear and then the nape of his neck simultaneously. These were motions that Shiroihana had used to subdue Sesshomaru as a pup and they worked amazingly well on the hanyou, silencing him as his little body tensed with instinctive obedience.

But only a few minutes passed before the next outburst came. Soon Sesshomaru did not bother waiting to administer the punishments. Izayoi watched helplessly out of the corner of her eye throughout the ceremony as Sesshomaru quietly and dispassionately controlled her son. She could see Inuyasha's face, bright red and streaked with tears. His little nose was running with a fluid snot. She longed to leave the ceremony and wipe it all away. She was aware of all of Ijimeru's retainers, his wife Rini, and other high members of the clan looking with curiosity and disdain at the hanyou—and at her.

Ijimeru was calm and unconcerned throughout the ceremony, meeting Izayoi's gaze only occasionally. To Izayoi's surprise and horror she saw warmth in his eyes and face and dreaded being forced to have sex with him. She searched frantically inside herself, seeking the inner strength that had always sustained her, through Shiroihana's cruelty, through her lovesickness, her pregnancy, her captivity as Takemaru's wife. Now she would endure again, as Ijimeru's concubine, a woman whose bed he visited while Rini was heavy with his child, a woman he used for his own selfish pleasures, a woman that he possessed simply because he could.

And of course, because Sesshomaru had forced him to take her. This much Izayoi had unraveled for herself. She did not know the payment, what had been exchanged for his sacrifice to take her in, but she knew _something_ had passed from Sesshomaru to Ijimeru. She was tainted, dishonorable. Ijimeru risked being mocked, and by laying with her, sharing the same bed, he could pick up her curse and dishonor like a virus.

When the ceremony ended Izayoi was not free to go attend her son as she wished. Instead she left with Ijimeru, presumably to consummate their new relationship, to get to know one another in the most private of ways. Izayoi made no attempt to hide where her true interest lied as she left the large audience room. She stared over her shoulder, straining her neck, gazing longingly at her son as Ijimeru led her out of the room.

As soon as she was out of the room, with the door closed behind, Izayoi tugged against Ijimeru's grip on her wrist and demanded, "What about Inuyasha? I must go to him."

"My wife and the other women of the clan will care for him," Ijimeru replied.

"Forgive me," Izayoi said, knowing what she was about to say would likely insult and anger him. "I do not trust them with my son."

Instead of reacting with anger, Ijimeru laughed. He released her wrist and stopped walking, turning to face her. His smile was pleasant and warm, friendly. Yet there was a mild incursion of lust in the way his eyes moved over her body and his jaw slackened. "I can assure you no harm will come to your son," he said. "Lord Sesshomaru was _very_ clear about that. Your son's life has bought us protection from the youkai that we never expected or dreamed. My wife and the other women know if harm comes to your son that the entire clan will pay for it as Lord Sesshomaru's hands."

The gratitude in his voice and the realization that Sesshomaru was that desperate to keep Inuyasha alive took Izayoi completely by surprise. She stood silent and mute with shock for a few moments before bowing from the waist. "Lord Ijimeru."

He laughed with a sort of grunting sound. "Come with me and we'll discuss our situation."

He led her to a large bedroom that Izayoi immediately saw had been laid out with fresh linens, tea, and light snacks. It was a fairly lavish room, well decorated and pleasant. Izayoi tried and failed to relax as she sat down on the padded floor at the foot of the futon. Ijimeru sat just a foot away, close enough that she could reach out and touch him. He cleared his throat as he settled and motioned to the tray of food and tea that had been left at the end of the futon. "We might as well make this pleasant," he said and Izayoi realized he was asking her to serve the tea.

She pulled two teacups from the tray, turned them upright, and then poured the green, frothy tea into them. Ijimeru took the first cup and drank it rapidly. Izayoi refilled it unquestioningly and then set the teakettle down, ignoring her own cup. She was anxious, tense, and unsure that anything she ate or drank would stay down.

Ijimeru sighed finally and began to speak. "I can see you're nervous, but there's no need to be."

Izayoi said nothing, merely waited.

"Personally I am not opposed to this situation. You are a lovely woman. I envied Takemaru from the moment I met you." He paused and Izayoi read his discomfort for a moment. She guessed that he didn't like talking so openly about his rebellious, dead brother. He cleared his throat and went on. "I was of course especially unhappy when I heard that you were carrying his child." He stopped and smirked in a completely unpleasant way, dark and unrepentant.

Izayoi knew with a jolt that Ijimeru had at least considered calling for her assassination. Now he reveled in the knowledge that it had never been needed and all had turned out in his favor. Heaven itself had frowned on his brother, delivering a wife that carried an abomination, a woman who belonged to someone else. A harlot who'd slept with a demon.

"But of course that fear proved ill-founded," Ijimeru said, still smiling. "My brother was a fine man, unfortunately he was not a trustworthy one. I don't know how much you know of his plans to overthrow me as clan leader, but much of his power rode on the hope that you would give him a son while my wife seemed unfruitful at the time."

Since Inuyasha's birth Rini's misfortune had reversed itself, a fact that Izayoi didn't begrudge at all. She had not had a chance to speak to Rini in an informal, personal way yet, but Izayoi had already seen the nursemaid who accompanied Rini everywhere, carrying the young clan heir, a boy whose name Izayoi had not yet learned. He was younger than Inuyasha, still clumsy and hardly speaking, but already Rini was round with another child. Izayoi wished her nothing but success.

Izayoi risked speaking then, eager to share her happiness that Rini had finally had a living child. "Lord Ijimeru, I wish to offer my congratulations to yourself and Lady Rini. I was very glad to see your young son in the arms of his nursemaid."

Ijimeru grunted. "Thank you. His birth was a blessing, indeed. One of many that came after Takemaru got himself killed at the hands of your…" He paused, scowling, seeking a proper term before giving up and saying, "Lord Inutaisho."

Izayoi avoided his gaze, staring back at the tea tray.

"You understand that my retainers, my people, my wife and her women—hell, even the _servants_ think I am mad and cowed by Lord Sesshomaru into taking you and your son into my household. I cannot protect you from harsh words, angry looks, that sort of thing. I expect you know that, you aren't an empty-headed woman, in fact I think you are deviously clever to have survived as you have."

Izayoi continued staring at the tea tray, but she felt her face flush with heat.

"Hopefully over time others will come to accept you, but it will certainly take some time. As for you and I—" He broke off and laughed in another grunt. "Well, there won't really be a you and I. You and I did not come to this arrangement willingly. You don't want me to take you to bed and I don't want to take you to bed because it would tarnish my own reputation. I also believe it might anger the spirits of the dead. Takemaru, and…" He cleared his throat and swallowed thickly. "Inutaisho."

Izayoi frowned, trying to stop herself from tearing up at the name of her dead lover and false husband. She inhaled sharply and flicked irritably at her eyelashes, clearing them of moisture.

"Therefore we will spend this required time chatting as we are now, but we won't touch each other. I have already promised my retainers and my wife that I would not touch you. The bed will stay pristine and our clothes exactly as they were when we entered. From time to time I will summon you like this, to talk, to discuss your son or Lord Sesshomaru or some other youkai."

When Izayoi cocked her head quizzically, Ijimeru explained himself. "I believe you are more knowledgeable regarding these youkai than any of my men. It would be foolish of me not to utilize such experience."

Izayoi bowed, instantly realizing that this was a compliment. "You honor me more than I deserve, Lord Ijimeru," she said, using the formal phrase.

He nodded his head in acknowledgement and then sat upright and drank again from the teacup. As Izayoi refilled his teacup yet again, Ijimeru asked, "Well, now that all that's out of the way, tell me how your journey was? How do you like this weather we've been having, hmm?"

Their time together drifted on, filled with inane, unimportant topics, shallow but reassuring. Ijimeru left after a little less than an hour and Izayoi followed swiftly, led by maids to where Rini and several other Setsuna clan women were waiting together, chatting and sewing while the clan's youth, boys and girls alike, toddled around them.

As she took her place among the other women and reunited with Inuyasha, saving him from a harried, uncomfortable looking nursemaid, Izayoi felt the hostility of their glares, but she didn't care. This existence would not be ideal, but Izayoi had never known a life that wasn't fraught with difficulty or emotional trauma of one kind or another. This one would have its troubles and threats, but Izayoi already felt it was a good place to be, far better than she'd imagined in the long, arduous months of her pregnancy. She would be an outsider among her own kind, kinless except for Inuyasha—but her son alone made this worthwhile.

She held him close, blind to the scornful stares of the Setsuna women, and opened her robe to let him snuggle close to her and nurse. His eyelids were heavy, drooping as he gazed up at her, content and satisfied while in her arms. Izayoi smiled down at him tenderly and rubbed his little ears, stroked his silky white hair. Already he looked so much like his father and half-brother. He was growing up so quickly and although Izayoi never wanted him to leave her arms where she couldn't protect him from the hurtful, cruel world, she wondered what his future held. Would he grow powerful enough to challenge Sesshomaru? Would he become a warrior, a scholar, or something else? She banished the pessimistic voice that spoke out in her mind, whispering, _He will become an outcast._

Regardless of the future awaiting both of them, Izayoi clung to the present, embracing it the same way she hugged Inuyasha close to her. _We're safe, for now, little one._

* * *

Shiroihana

I have been watching my son, waiting for my time to come again. As the centuries pass, I can feel my mother and the Queens, my ancestors from the beginning of our line, pressing on my back. They challenge me to step back onto the rightful path of my heritage. I cannot leave this pathetic impermanent existence just yet.

I have one last duty to see to, before the end. Though he no longer remembers his heritage, or his oath to me in both lives as my son and my brother, Sesshomaru has kept his promises. Unlike Inutaisho, whose seed was purely male, my son has given me granddaughters who can carry the line of the Queens into Eternity. Sesshomaru has been a short break in this long chain of maternal ancestors. In spite of himself, my son has been given multiple daughters when his only desire was a son.

But even though he has no use for these daughters, he will never turn them over to me. I remain ostracized, the unfairly hated mother, the female scourge in a world of masculine rule. Yet I will prevail in time. Sesshomaru is Fated to give me the daughters that I could not produce. One day I will determine which one of them is meant to become Queen, and she will become my heir.

Then and only then will my time in this wretched world come to an end.

* * *

Once a year, like clockwork, as predictable as sunrise and sunset, a messenger arrived with letters for Shiroihana. They were always written in the same script, the same coarse calligraphy and almost unreadable shorthand. Shiroihana had learned to read these warped characters and their frustratingly incomplete phrasing centuries earlier, during the panther demon war. Daken had always been a diligent record keeper, noting losses and gains in wartime, supplies, numbers of troops, areas where combat had taken place or enemies spotted and so on.

Shiroihana always made sure that she was at the same place, in the deep, remote mountains of China beside an ancient monastery filled with warrior monks who regarded her with awe. The monks started to anticipate her arrival and gathered at the same time each year at midsummer, when they knew she would come, observing her. Their respect surprised Shiroihana, impressing her. She never attacked them and never interacted with them except by returning their curious or wary stares with her own looks of casual, detached amusement. With her keen ears she knew they called her _The White Lady._

The reverence of the humans in the monastery made her recall her youth, when her mother Queen Samidare had enchanted the people of Kosetsu into thinking she was a goddess. The line of Queens had begun that way, with humans and some weaker demons elevating the dog demon women of Shiroihana's family above them as goddesses. The rest of the world became male-dominated, but the people of the Kosetsu held onto their belief right up until Shiroihana named Sesshomaru as her heir. After that the godhood of the monarchs fell swiftly into doubt and the male-dominated world outside quickly devoured the belief.

Enough time had passed since those events that now every human who'd once believed Shiroihana was a goddess was dead and buried. Long ago. Forgotten.

_Exiled. Banished._

Shiroihana's punishment at Sesshomaru's hands continued to weigh on her heart, her very soul. Yet it was also healthy. Alone in the wilds of another country, Shiroihana found that her grief diminished. She walked through a part of the world that knew nothing of her or her history. The men of the monastery probably could not fathom where she had come from and never would have thought she'd been a Queen once, married to an otherworldly warrior, and birthed a son who now ruled most of Japan. The men probably thought she was little more than an apparition.

The messenger arrived. It was always the same kitsune, a servant Shiroihana had brought from Kosetsu for this express purpose. As the years passed, Shiroihana watched the kitsune grow and change, eventually taking on a mate somewhere along the way until soon its child, a young son, accompanied him for the voyage.

Daken was a perfect spy. Shiroihana had no illusions that Sesshomaru didn't know that his servant sent these messages. Sesshomaru would know, certainly. That meant there were probably things Shiroihana didn't learn about because Sesshomaru hid them from Daken. At first this thought terrified Shiroihana. She imagined, almost childishly, that Sesshomaru would marry or take lovers secretly, spawning dozens of illegitimate children—_daughters , _she was sure_—_and she would never know about it. But soon she realized that even if Daken didn't know about something and didn't send word to her across the sea, she had the power to find out almost anything.

Inutaisho's gift to her at his death was the meidou-seki. At first Shiroihana despised the thing and brought it only to offer in trade if she needed something from local demons or even humans that she could not simply take by force. But after a few months she discovered the meidou-seki was useful in its own ways. Eerie voices sometimes called to her, beckoning. Shiroihana ignored them, irritated rather than intrigued, but eventually the voices began to speak fragments of coherency, things that she recognized because they were about people or places she knew.

"_Izayoi has died today,"_ the voices hissed from the center of the necklace and Shiroihana's skin prickled with gooseflesh at both the words it spoke as well as the cold sensation the necklace exuded. Alone amongst the dark, high altitude forest, in the depth of winter, Shiroihana paused and tried to count how many years had passed since she'd last seen the girl. How old had she been? A decade and a half when she birthed the abomination half-breed? Or was it more like two decades? How long did humans live? It seemed a pathetically short time, but even so, Shiroihana thought too little time had passed for Izayoi to have died just yet.

She let out a short, harsh laugh. "Ha." An animal squeaked somewhere above her, alarmed by her sudden vocalization. Suddenly hungry and ripe with triumph at simply the possibility of outliving the wretched girl, Shiroihana sent her whip out and snatched the animal out of the high tree to her side. It made a wet gurgling squawk and then perished before hitting the snowy ground at Shiroihana's feet.

It was a bird of some kind. Shiroihana ate it, feathers and all.

She did not believe the meidou-seki's news completely until almost a half a year later at midsummer when Daken's messages came by way of the kitsune again. She read through his notes of the year without any thought of the mortal woman at all until she found a note made during the long winter. In his crude shorthand, Daken had written:

_Word arrived from Takeyabu province. Izayoi died. Sestuna clan claimed the death was of natural causes. Illness. Her heart gave out. Sesshomaru concluded the death was murder. Poison. He could still smell the poison at the gravesite. _

Shiroihana paused, slightly stunned. Again she tried to calculate how many years had passed, but time was inconsequential to her in the wilderness. She read on, curious to see how much more Daken and Sesshomaru had discovered and also dreading that the next lines would say her son had taken in the half-breed abomination as an adopted child.

_Inutaisho's hanyou son unharmed in attack on Izayoi. Setsuna clan asked Sesshomaru to take the child. The hanyou was difficult and unfriendly. Sesshomaru hates him but will not kill him because of Inutaisho's tomb. _

_Hanyou child is aged approximately 16. He appears to be aging as a pureblooded inuyoukai. Except for his scent and some strange features resulting from his dual ancestry, the child is remarkably similar to a pureblooded inuyoukai. _

Sixteen in inuyoukai years equaled a human child of about eight. Shiroihana imagined Sesshomaru at that age: strong, willful, and proud. She doubted this child was any of those things. He would be brutish, thickheaded and stupid, as well as being ignorant and self-centered, like all creatures associated so closely with humans would be.

_His resemblance to Inutaisho is almost unsettling. His name is Inuyasha._

Shiroihana scowled at the name, snorting with how stupid it sounded. It was a name Inutaisho would have chosen, certainly. As idiotic as his own incorrect name. She quickly noted and memorized Daken's notes after this fully spelled out name. Whenever a new idea or name was expressed in his letters, Daken invented shorthand for it and noted it beside the new entry for her. The new terminology Daken used for Inutaisho's bastard son made Shiroihana wrinkle her nose in disgust. _Dog ears._ She had heard of half-breeds coming out with twisted body forms. Apparently Inutaisho's spawn came out with dog ears. She read on.

_Sesshomaru sent child to remote location with tutor and servants. _

She continued going through the year's report, through the winter and into the last reports of the spring before Daken would have boxed up the letters and sent them with a messenger for the coast to be shipped by sea to China. In the springtime reports the hanyou appeared numerous times. Daken reported the child's poor performance with human and youkai teachers alike, that he dismissed the maids, flying into rages that made them fear for their lives. He demanded to see Sesshomaru, expecting that his brother should be closer to him, that they should see one another daily, living in the same household. Sesshomaru's response was swift and bitter in its decisiveness. He turned the ungrateful brat out of his property, banishing the half-breed to the wilderness, shunning and denying him just as Inutaisho had done to him.

_I do not like this outcome,_ Daken admitted in his letters. _It endangers the child and with him any chance of Sesshomaru claiming Tetsusaiga. But I believe Sesshomaru has pushed that concern aside. He cannot withstand this child's behavior. My interpretation is different from his. I believe the child is gravely wounded by the loss of his only kin and rebels to seek attention, not knowing that this will only further isolate him from Sesshomaru. If Lady Shiroihana were present she could claim the child from the wilderness and keep him safe and out of Sesshomaru's sight. It is my belief that if the child received affection from Lady Shiroihana or better still from Sesshomaru himself, the child will easily become a servant or spy or warrior for the Western Lands…_

This was an invitation to Shiroihana, a discrete plead for her to intervene to help Sesshomaru. Yet Shiroihana foresaw how disastrous such an action would be to herself. Sesshomaru would despise both her and the hanyou for her actions. Besides, Shiroihana had no interest in saving or befriending Inutaisho's foul bastard.

She thought very little and heard almost nothing more about the half-breed scum until many years later when Daken wrote casually that Inuyasha had been pinned to a tree by a priestess's arrow and put under some type of spell. He updated his description of the hanyou as well, recording his age at roughly 100 to 150 years old—an age range that for inuyoukai marked sexual and physical maturity. That was what Inutaisho's riddles about the tomb had called for. Daken reported that the hanyou was as good as dead, left in suspended animation with no sign of revival—and Sesshomaru _had_ tried to revive his brother, albeit weakly. He wanted the hanyou healthy and alive to fulfill his part as "the key" to Inutaisho's tomb, but was swift to give up on it too, trying his own means to find and access the tomb.

It was amusing to hear how little the abomination had amounted to thus far in his worthless life, though Shiroihana was surprised to know that he hadn't died as a child out in the wild. She was also taken aback by his aging. Shouldn't he have been weaker, old and dead by now?

No matter. He would rot on the tree and someday Shiroihana imagined she would find that spot where his bones were held up by the arrow and she would chew on his bones, a final, twisted triumph over Inutaisho. But she couldn't do that unless Sesshomaru forgave her, summoning her back to Japan…

* * *

The meidou-seki spoke to her, whispering periodically. Shiroihana always listened to it, stopping whatever she was doing to strain her ears, trying to decipher the voices into recognizable speech. She realized over time that the meidou-seki spoke with multiple voices and in innumerable languages. Some were guttural and harsh, with patterns and intonations that made her cringe. Others were reminiscent of Chinese with tonal sounds identifying the different words from one another. Still more made noises that weren't words at all to Shiroihana, but clicks or grunts.

The useless, mocking trinket of Inutaisho's now became a source of fascination for Shiroihana. She did not have the resources or the influence to research the necklace, but she suspected that Inutaisho had found the tool in China. She began directing her energies in the months between her midsummer rendezvous toward uncovering the meidou-seki's secrets, its origins and its purpose. She sought information from the local kitsune and any other youkai she could find. When she encountered resistance—which was almost constant because her informants were always male and expected payment often in body once they'd had a look at her—Shiroihana used her spectral whip to force something from them or kill them outright.

Eventually she realized that the meidou-seki was unknown to demon kind. This answer made so much sense that Shiroihana felt duped and humiliated yet again by Inutaisho. From the grave Inutaisho had cleverly managed to make her miserable over and over again. Shiroihana both despised and admired him. As the years continued to pass, flowing as easily and smoothly and carelessly as water, Shiroihana began to feel her inner rage, despair, and hate cool. By the time she realized that the meidou-seki's secrets were known only to the humans of China—a fact that should have been easily puzzled out but hadn't been because Shiroihana despised humans so much and refused to learn anything about them—she'd come to a point emotionally where she could actually _laugh_ at her own foolishness. More astonishingly, she could _admire_ Inutaisho's cleverness. He had known she would be banished to China, and he'd given her the meidou-seki as much to taunt her as to challenge her. He'd known her so well that he could predict her moves even long after he was dead.

After she was able to embrace this knowledge without bitterness, Shiroihana found that the meidou-seki began to speak more often to her and in languages she could understand. One night, during a new moon when the dry, hot Chinese-Mongolian plains stretched out for uncountable miles, treeless and barren to Shiroihana's eyes, a voice emerged from the meidou-seki that sent chills through her, violent and unstoppable. She was inuyoukai, a Queen, one of the most powerful and experienced of her entire clan and the dog demon clan as a whole, but she had never before bothered much with the dead. Now, so it seemed, they had come to her.

"_Daughter,"_ a female voice called from the necklace. _"Daughter."_

Shiroihana had not heard the voice in centuries, but immediately she was transported back to Japan in her memories, to her luxurious palace atop its misty, mysterious mountains. She remembered vividly the scent of her mother Queen Samidare, the sweet taste of her milk, the comfort of her touch, unrivaled by everyone and everything else in her long lifetime.

She had long since taken to wearing the meidou-seki about her neck, sometimes hidden under her robes and the thick white fur Koshoshiro had given her, but more often than not exposed to the sun and the moon while she waited for it to speak. Now she brought trembling fingers to the metal of the necklace and clutched it. The surface was unnaturally cold, sending more shivers through her body as she responded to the abnormality of it. The world around her was stiflingly hot with the deepest summer heat, but the meidou-seki was so chilled that her fingers came away wet with condensation.

Casting around quickly, searching the black night for anyone at all, animal, demon, or human who would overhear her or the necklace, Shiroihana hesitated. She had never interacted with the necklace, merely listened to it. She felt foolish as she lifted it up and over her head and turned the pendent to face her, lifting it cautiously to her lips. "Mother?" she asked, tentatively.

"_Daughter,"_ Samidare said. _"Have you finally silenced your hate and opened your heart? Will you listen to the call of your ancestors? Will you obey as a good child, or continue to rebel and run from your Fate?"_

The cold of the metal seemed to bite into Shiroihana's hands. She gripped it harder, trying to push aside the uncanny discomfort, the unnatural freeze-burn in her fingertips. "Mother, I have always listened to you."

"_We are as ants to Fate,"_ Samidare said.

Shiroihana closed her eyes, breathing deeply in the dusty, unclean air. "I know. What was I to do, Mother? I could not create a daughter. I tried so many times…"

It was true. So many times she had tested the prophecy around Inutaisho's seed, but always she had conceived a boy. How many pups had she carried briefly in her womb, praying desperately that the child would be female? But each one had been only another sign to her that Inutaisho was a liar, a cheat, a scoundrel who'd gone to her bed with no intention of honoring the line of Queens, only of ruining it. Her suspicions had been confirmed when she had the affair with Koshoshiro and conceived his child for the second and last time in her life—and it had been a girl. But Sesshomaru had stolen it away from her…

"_You live still. You are Queen. No one can strip that title from you. Listen Daughter—across the sea, back in the islands, your daughters-in-law have been born."_

Shiroihana frowned. "_Daughters_ in law?"

Samidare did not elaborate. _"Great trials are coming. You must be prepared to return to the islands. There is a child you must save."_

Immediately Shiroihana thought of Inutaisho's spawn, the half-breed pup Daken liked to refer to as "Dog Ears." Although Shiroihana had mellowed in her two centuries of banishment there was still a limit to her patience. "I will not save such an abomination."

"_He has no need of your help. The child you must save will be Sesshomaru's ward, a human girl. You must use the meidou-seki on her by placing it around her neck. You will know the right time."_

The meidou-seki flared suddenly hot in Shiroihana's hands. She fumbled with it, trying to cover her fingers protectively in her sleeves. While she struggled, Samidare went on, _"Hold fast, be patient. Sesshomaru will send for you soon."_

"Mother?" Shiroihana called at the necklace. "Mother?"

But Samidare had gone. The middle of the necklace, which had darkened to black while Samidare was speaking, now changed into a deep purple and seemed to solidify, becoming inactive. Shiroihana held it in her clawed hands, gazing at the necklace in consternation for a time before securing it back around her neck and moving on her way.

The following year on the eve of the midsummer as usual, Shiroihana met the kitsune and saw with a sigh that he was aging rapidly, deteriorating quickly as he approached his elder years. She took up the letters from Daken with more reserve and trepidation than nromal and found the bizarre news that she'd been waiting for.

_Sesshomaru has taken in an orphan girl. He saved her from death with Tenseiga. She is very loyal to him, bright and fearless. I have not seen such blind devotion since the girl Izayoi. Sesshomaru neither encourages her nor pushes her away. _

Reclining in the shade of a large tree in the mountains just within hearing range of the monastery where the Chinese monks were chanting sutras, Shiroihana closed her eyes. Her body tingled with relief. Weight left her that she hadn't known she was carrying, invisible and heavy on her strong but narrow shoulders. The meidou-seki was not incorrect and not a hallucination of her own under-stimulated, bored mind. It was the voices of the dead, calling out to her, guiding her.

As she read on below, she sneered unhappily at the unexpected, insulting news that had just been revealed to Daken but had actually happened earlier in the year but had been hidden by Sesshomaru. _Dog Ears has claimed Tetsusaiga and severed Sesshomaru's left arm with it. I cannot account for such power in a hanyou. He broke his seal from the tree and the arrow some time ago, but Sesshomaru has been traveling a great deal and left me behind to attend his estates. He visits only rarely and no foxes had brought me news of Dog Ears as he has been asleep and as good as dead for fifty years now. No one expected this. Sesshomaru is well and undeterred from travel and battle in spite of his loss. _

Finally, after the report of the half-breed's whereabouts and doings—chasing some kind of misfit demon called Naraku and hunting "Sacred Jewel shards" in the company of several humans and small, weak demons—Daken requested Shiroihana's return to the islands. _Sesshomaru was a fool to send you away. He needs you, but will not admit it. You must come back to him. _

Samidare's voice from the meidou-seki echoed powerfully inside Shiroihana's mind: _"Hold fast and be patient._" Sesshomaru had not yet sent for her. This was Daken, subverting Sesshomaru's orders and wishes. Shiroihana knew if she came back now the rift between herself and Sesshomaru would likely widen. Although she was eager to return to her son, Shiroihana found she was surprisingly at peace with the knowledge that she would have to wait a little longer.

_We are as ants to Fate,_ she thought, _but I am a Queen among ants and soon I will be back inside the safety of my hive. _

She laughed, light and musical and let her head thump back against the bark of the tree. She smiled up through the dappled light and darks of the leaves overhead, content.

At her neck she felt rather than truly heard Inutaisho's voice, whispering from the necklace. _"If you allow it, we will guide you. You will be like a fish to Fate, swimming with full knowledge of the river's path and its current. We will help you navigate."_

"Why should I trust you?" Shiroihana asked the air without opening her eyes. "You are not one of the Queens."

"_But I speak with them beside all of your mothers and fathers. I could not forgive you in life, but in death I yearn only to know that those I love are safe. Your ancestors and mine are united in Sesshomaru and I knew when I left you meidou-seki that you would be the best guardian for him and the only one strong enough to control him and check his growing power."_

It had been so long since Shiroihana had heard Inutaisho speak without menace in his voice. Much longer than two centuries. She had not been raised to trust the dead, but she did know that what he'd said was true. What more could the dead want than to oversee the living? It was strange, but inside her she felt something foreign inside, building and changing. She didn't have a name for the emotion. Was it regret? Shame? Loss?

"Where is Sesshomaru's spirit?" she asked. "Where is my brother? Why hasn't he spoken to me?"

"_You know the answer to that question already,"_ Inutaisho replied.

_The dead always lie,_ she thought, but could not be certain. Was it true then that Sesshomaru—her son across the ocean—was truly her brother as well? Was it the same soul? Or was Inutaisho manipulating her from the grave as he already had several times?

"If that's true why would you want to protect my brother's soul?" she demanded.

"_Because it is no longer your brother. He is my son. He is your son—_our_ son."_

Again Shiroihana felt the strange emotion rippling within her. She recalled her blind, poisonous hate for Inutaisho, her possessiveness of Sesshomaru, the constant tenseness and unhappiness as she manipulated, lied, and jockeyed to control everyone around her. She'd known as a princess that the life of a Queen would be hard and difficult, filled with the doubt of others and the constant need to reassert her dominance over men who questioned her authority and power. Yet she'd thought she could handle it, that she'd possessed a strong spirit capable of matching any man's. Now she felt the burden of those centuries and knew they had aged her, not physically, but emotionally and mentally. What would life have been like if she'd reconciled with Inutaisho? If she'd adopted a distant cousin to replace her as Queen instead of constantly holding onto Inutaisho's prophecy as a deep grievance, embittering her and fueling their constant internal warfare?

She couldn't fathom the answers to those questions and found she didn't want to know.

"I cannot forgive you for everything," she murmured. "But I can admit now that I have much to thank you for." First and foremost of those things was Sesshomaru himself.

"_Will you work with us?"_ Samidare asked.

Hearing her mother's voice again, Shiroihana felt tears suddenly in her eyes but she blinked them away. She knew instinctively that she had passed some sort of tests and been found acceptable—redeemable.

"If it benefits my son and the Queens," Shiroihana whispered and opened her eyes to find them briefly blinded by the sunlight streaming in directly overhead. "I will do _anything,"_ she vowed.

"_We knew you would,"_ Inutaisho said and Shiroihana could almost hear him chuckle.

* * *

**Endnote:** WAAAaaah! I killed Izayoi. We all know it happened. I didn't want to do it, but the evidence for her dying is kinda foolproof. We see Inuyasha as a young child with her, never as an adolescent or older child. When we see him fighting for his life in the wilderness (I can't remember what episode or anything) he's still very young and hiding from demons. Now I could have legitimately said that Inuyasha simply outlived her and aged so slowly that he still looked like a child during that scene in the woods while he's being chased by monsters and whatnot, but it's kinda damning that we never see his mother aged. We only see him as a young child with her at no more than like 30 years old. She never looks old, so I can only conclude that she never grew old and died well before Inuyasha could outlive her. This was why I did cover her death here, but it still hurt to do.

Now I could be wrong, but I also recall hearing that there was evidence to suggest Izayoi was murdered. That could all be hearsay though. I took that route though ultimately because I thought it was realistic. In an earlier draft of this chapter I had Izayoi meet with the Setsuna clan women and realize that the clan could kill her and then use that to get out of their agreement with Sess. I thought it was entirely likely that eventually it would happen. Plus, it explains, in my head anyway, some of Inuyasha's later behavior. Since it's clear he was raised by humans, why does he long so much to be pureblooded demon and not human? He wants power sure, just like Sess, but I think he'd need some extra motive for feeling that way, and I thought if humans murdered his mother that would explain his hostility toward humans when we first meet him. Being Inuyasha, he won't tell us what he's really feeling so who's to say we have the whole story? Anyway...

As for Shiroihana and Sess...well, Shiroihana hasn't changed all that much. She's plotting and manipulating in favor of Sess constantly, and just as she says, she will do _anything_ to keep her son in power and on a path she prefers. This is demonstrated very well in _Return. _If you want to read more on her, check that one out. _Innocence _as well. She's such an enjoyable character to write and for some reason just flows out of me so easily. Sess is also a very important character in my other stories too. Ah...

Not sure what my next project will be. I've had requests for Koinu and Akisame. Any others?

Again, THANK YOU ALL. Happy New Year! I'll see you all later. ;-)


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